TRON:Uprising Season Two
by Avemist
Summary: With the Arrival of Clu in Argon, Tron and Beck recruit the programs of Able's garage in the Uprising and attempt to flea Argon for Tron's base in the Outlands. However, Tesler, wary of the watchful gaze of Clu pulls out all the stops to crush the resistance once and for all, only Pavel has other plans in mind.
1. The Uprising Begins: Part 1

Accessing archived Data…

With Beck's Help, Tron recovers from his injuries…

 _Tron stared down the corridor at the group of black guards charging at him, "Good news... I'm healed," he smiled, "Bad news...I'm healed."_

...But it comes at a price…

" _Clu repurposed you," Beck stared at Cutler as his grid line changed from blue to orange._

" _Clu showed me the light," was Cutler's reply…_

 _...Beck watched as Cutler's lines flicker between blue and orange. There was a flash and they steadied on orange as Cutler began laughing at Beck. Cutler was still holding onto the bomb so, with Regret, Beck let his old friend go and watch as he plummeted down the shaft and exploded…_

….The Uprising gains new members…

" _From now on, we protect each other." Mara stood, disk ready at the head of the programs from the garage. Other programs were igniting their disks as they all stood to face Pavel and the sentires. "Tell your boss, we're down letting one program fight out battles."_

" _Welcome to the house of pain," Zed said, smirking._

" _The Uprising has begun," Tron said as he and Beck looked on at the scene._

...While Tesler receives news of a special guest.

 _The image on the tablet came into focus. As it did so, Tesler's angry expression changed to one of terror._

" _Clu."_

TRON: Uprising

The Uprising Begins: Part 1

Beck Tron stood atop the pile of Super Recognizer wreckage, watching as Pavel and his battalion fled the crowd of armed programs from Able's garage. Beck turned to look at Tron and saw he was smiling.

"Hey, I didn't know you could do that."

Tron looked at him, cocking his eyebrow, "Do what?"

"You know," Beck grinned, "Smile." Where normally the older program would have frowned at the remark, his smile endured.

"This is something worth smiling about," Tron gazed down at the crowd of programs, most of whom were still watching Pavel and company run to their recognizers. After a moment, though, the smile faded to be replaced by Tron's normal serious scowl. "We can't stay here, Pavel may be a coward, but when he comes back, he'll have company." That was the Tron Beck knew, always thinking on the positive side.

"What about them?" Beck motioned to the group of programs below them.

"They'll have to come with us, they're fugitives now, there's no getting around that." They began making their way down the heap of rubble when Tron added, "Beck, you should tell them."

Beck stopped, "Zed and Mara? That I'm the renegade?"

"All of these programs," Tron turned to face Beck, "They stood up for you out of trust. They just gave up everything for you and the Uprising. If you want their help, you need to show them trust in return."

Beck couldn't argue. He, Mara, Zed, Link, everyone from Able's garage, they were all in the same boat now and if this was to work, he needed to be honest with them. When the two had descended the wreckage heap, the garage's programs had docked their disks. There was a lot of panicked whispering spreading through the crowd, but as soon as Beck and Tron entered, there was dead silence.

Tron stepped up, "Listen, I thank you all for standing up to the Occupation. I've been search of programs like you for a long time-"

"Who are you?" came a shout from someone in the crowd. Tron was wearing his black grid suit with the grid lines switched off. He derezzed his helmet, revealing his face, "I'm Tron."

There was more whispering, but the same program shouted again from the back of the crowd. "Then who's that?" a program in the back was pointing at Beck, still in Renegade white.

"He's a friend." Tron addressed the crowd, "Clu betrayed me and left me with injuries that prevented me from protecting the Grid. So I found him," he motioned to Beck, "He's been fighting in my place, but now," Tron's face hardened with resolve, "I'm back."

Beck was about to lower his helmet when Mara stepped forward cutting him off, "We're with you Tron, we'll take the fight to Clu!" At this there were cheers from the other programs, but Tron raised his hand for silence. Beck kept his vizor up.

"There will be time for celebration later, but now we need to get out of Argon." Tron scanned the crowd of programs, "You're all fugitives now and we need to get to safety outside the city. Pavel will be back with reinforcements and we don't want to be here when he is."

"Where will we go?" This time it was Zed asking.

"I have a base, far in the Outlands. With help I'm sure we can expand it to accommodate all of you," There was a large roaring sound in the distance, Tron, Beck and everyone turned to look out over the bay, there was a fleet of Occupation ships headed towards the city lead by a single, solitary yellow cruiser. Tron's scowl deepened, "Clu."

He turned back to the garage's programs, "There's little time, grab what belongings you can and a light cycle, you aren't coming back here so this is your last chance to take something with you." Tron turned to watch as Clu's fleet approached Argon, gaging the time until they landed. "We have fifteen micros."

Tron waited outside the garage getting programs organized as they came out with their belongings while Beck, still in Renegade white, stood in the center of the garage directing programs to get their things as fast as possible.

"Come on go. Go!" Beck yelled to a couple of programs who were hurriedly stuffing their packs with items. Beck, in addition to getting programs packed and ready to move, was grabbing as many light jet, cycle, and vehicle batons as he could. There was no sense leaving anything behind for the Occupation to use. The two programs he had spoken to had finished up and didn't need any prompting to head outside where Tron was. Beck watched them leave and did a visual sweep of the garage, checking for any last programs. He saw some lights moving around upstairs in the locker room. He was about to go up when he also saw that the door to Abel's office was open. Beck walked over to see Link standing alone in front of Abels desk.

"We have to go," Beck said.

Link stood there for a long moment before replying, "I can't."

"We don't have a choice," Beck replied, his voice urgent, "any minute now, this place is going to be overrun by Clu's soldiers."

Link turned towards Beck, "Even though Abel's gone, this place is still home. I don't know if I can leave it."

Beck sighed. He couldn't tell Link, but the same feeling had hit him. "You'll come back here someday," Link looked up, "That's what we're fighting for so that we don't lose anything or anyone else." Beck put a hand on Link's shoulder and steered him toward the door, "Come on." Link simply nodded and left, leaving Beck alone in Abel's office. Beck paused for a moment looking around the room. The garage was his home too. He'd spent plenty of time at the hideout, but to know that he could never come back hurt. It was like loosing Able all over again. He ran his hand over Able's circular desk remembering all the older program had done for him, for everyone at the garage. Beck's eyes were drawn to a shelf in the back room; there was a single white baton on the shelf. He picked it up; it was Abel's ENCOM 786. The sight of it lifted Beck's spirits a little, glad that Pavel, during his brief tenure at the garage, hadn't taken it with him. He tucked it into his own pack before heading to the door, where he looked over his shoulder one last time. He took it all in. Then he left.

Upstairs in the locker room, Zed was cramming as many wrenches, tools, and spare energy canisters as he could into his pack. With a final shove, he got everything inside, slung it over his back and made for the elevator. On his way out, he saw Mara packing her things in a separate room.

"Couldn't hurt to help," He thought. "Need a hand?" He asked walking up to her.

"I think I got it," she said, but her hand fumbled, dropping an energy canister. Luckily, Zed caught it before it smashed to the ground. He gave it back to her. "Oops."

"You alright?" Zed asked, he saw her hands shake as she closed her pack up.

"No, but not in a bad way," They began walking toward the elevator, "It's just Able's death, and Tron and the Renegade coming here, and now we're going with him… " She heaved a sigh, "It's just a lot to take in."

"Well, you did want to meet the Renegade," Zed tried to think of something to lighten the mood, " _is_ he as handsome as you thought he'd be?"

"Who?" Mara asked confused.

Zed frowned, clearly she didn't get the joke, come to think of it, a lot of people didn't get his jokes, "You known, when the Renegade first showed up, you thought he'd be handsome."

"Oh yeah," Mara remembered, "I mean he is tall and strong, but to be honest, I was really hopping he'd be Tron himself."

"I always said he wasn't Tron," Mara elbowed him, " What? I did. Though to be fair, he's not so bad"

"Really," Mara almost sounded sarcastic, "That coming from the guy who built a weapon to _derez_ him."

"That was before I got to the know the him," Zed joked, "once you meet him in person, he's not as terrible as you'd think."

Mara laughed which made Zed smile, "What did you do with that weapon anyway?" she asked.

Zed pointed to his pack, "Beck and I took off the main EMP drive component a couple cycles ago. I'm bringing it with us, it'll be handy if we run into recognizers."

Mara suddenly stopped, her face filled with worry. "I mean I changed it so it won't derez the program," Zed said apologetically, thinking it was something he said, "It'll just stun them."

"Zed," Mara looked at him, "Have you seen Beck?" Zed stopped in his tracks. He hadn't. The two looked at each other, then sprinted towards the elevator.

Back on the ground floor, most programs were ready to go. Tron would take the lead with their light cycle caravan as they made for the Outlands, with Beck bringing up the rear. Beck was just getting the last few program set up when he heard his name called.  
"Beck!" Called Mara from across the garage as she and Zed ran towards him.

Beck braced himself, this wasn't the best way to tell them, but here it goes. "I can explain-" but he was interrupted by Zed.

"Have you see our friend Beck? We can't find him anywhere."

Caught off guard, Beck's mind raced for a response and choose one at random, "I think I saw him up by Tron," he managed to say, his visor still on. Both Zed and Mara sighed in relief.

"Well if he's with Tron, that's the safest place in Argon right now," replied Zed.

"Time to go!" came Tron's call from across the garage. The three made their way to the rear of the caravan just as the dozens of programs broke their batons and revved their light cycles; the sound of a thirty plus ion engines filled the garage with a loud hum. "Move out!" Tron shouted and with that the mechanics of Able's garage left for the last time.

High above Argon's skyline, Clu's flagship accompanied by dozens of recognizers, fighters, and battle ships cruised into the city limits. On the bridge stood Clu himself, gazing out over the city. It was smaller than he'd remembered it. Flynn and him had been there many giga-cycles ago. How apropos he realized, to have been here with Flynn, and to have returned to reunite with Tron. The thought brought a brief, malicious smile to his face, but only for a moment. Looking out the viewport, he saw a squadron of local light jets heading to escort his flagship into dock. His mind ticked in irritation when he realized their formation was off. The sight didn't phase him or make him visibly angry, his demeanour was too cool for that, like a pool of still water. But he made a mental note of the imperfection to remember during his evaluation of General Tesler.

He heard light methodical footsteps behind him. "What is it Dyson?"

The keen faced program that served as Clu's righthand man answered, "Half a milicycle until we dock with Tesler's war ship." When Clu didn't respond, he asked, "Something wrong, sir?"

Clu's eyes were fixed on the city ahead, intent on finding all the other errors that may lurk in its iridescent streets. In answer to Dyson's question, Clu simply replied in a perfectly level voice, "We have work to do."

Far below on the landing pad, General Telser stood with a steely gaze fixed on the approaching yellow flagship. Beside him stood his two commanders, Pavel and Paige. Tesler hands occasionally glowed with anxiety, a fact which didn't escape his two subordinates.

"Are all the preparations ready?" Tesler asked gruffly, he was not in the mood for mincing words.

"Yes, sir," Paige replied.

She caught Pavel smiling at her before he said, "Actually, I'm afraid not sir."

"What do you mean, Pavel?" Tesler nearly growled at him, still keeping his eyes bent on the flagship. "If anything goes wrong, I am holding you two personally responsible."

Pavel smile widened. This was his chance to toppled Tesler literally face to face with Clu. With mock worry Pavel said, "There is still the issue of the Super Recognizer, sir. If it was sent by Clu and it's now destroyed…"

Paige picked up the question, "Clu will ask how it happened, sir."

"Mechanical failure is what happened," Tesler replied in an attempt at a calm voice. He pried his eyes from Clu's ship to face his two commanders, "I don't want any, and I mean _any_ mention of the Renegade while _he_ is here." He straightened up so that he stood almost a foot taller than either Paige or Pavel. "Is that understood?" His tone made any answer other than 'yes' a bad idea.

"Absolutely, wise commander," Pavel replied.

"Yes, sir," Paige replied simply.

"Good," Tesler turned back to watch the ship land, "because I don't want to-"

"Sir!" came a shout from across the platform as a black guard raced toward them.

Tesler's hands flared red in irritation, "What is it?!"

The blackguard, undaunted, came up to the trio, "We have reports, sir, of the Renegade near the recognizer crash site," the guard continued, oblivious to the intensifying glow of Tesler's gauntlets, "What's more, other programs seem to have grouped up with him and are trying to leave the city on-" That was as far as the black guard got before there was a hole in his chest from Tesler's fist. The guard didn't even have time to utter a yell as Tesler ripped his hand up through the guards body, derezzing the rest of him rapidly.

After a tense moment, "General," Pavel spoke up, "if I may, I'll take care of this." He threw Paige a mischievous smile.

"Actually," Paige interjected, "I would like to be the one to do this General. I owe the Renegade for framing me," she added coldly thinking back to her brief time the Renegade had her memory altered. Although Pavel scowled at Paige, in his head he couldn't help but feel satisfied that his plan was working.

"Go," Telser waved her off with his hand, adding, "And Pavel, get someone to clean this mess up." He shook the derezzed, blackguard's voxels off of his boots.

The two left Telser standing on the landing pad as they went back inside Tesler's ship. They had to take an elevator down to the hanger. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Paige slammed Pavel into the wall. "I know what you're doing," she rolled her eyes, "Trying _again_ to undermine Tesler in front of Clu."

Pavel pushed her off and casually readjusted his uniform, "I'm shocked at you Paige. Thinking I would try to subvert our great leader General Tesler."

Paige wished there was a window in the elevator so she could push him out of it, "I know you Pavel, and whatever you're up to, I'm going to make sure it doesn't work."

In a flash, Pavel grabbed her shoulder and shoved her against the elevator doors, "I gave you a chance Paige, we could have worked together, but you insisted on sticking it out with Tesler. Well his time is up, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself when you take the plunge with him" There was a small ding, indicating they'd reached the ground level. "I believe this is your stop." Pavel smiled as the elevator doors he was holding Paige against opened and she fell backwards onto the floor. "Good luck on your mission." Paige got to her feet and nearly punched Pavel in the face when the doors closed again, blocking her off. Paige stomped off, trying to focus on her assignment, unaware of a small EMP stuck to the back of her disk.

To anyone standing along the road, the company of cycles that blew past were nothing more than blurs of light. The roar of engines echoed off the buildings as Tron, Beck and the programs of Able's garage raced towards the city's edge.

"Stay in formation!" Tron shouted over his shoulder, "We're almost there!"

In the back of the group was Beck serving as the company's rear guard. Surprisingly, they hadn't met much resistance along the way other than the occasional sentry on patrol who was either too scared to engage their large group or was run over by the swarm of light cycles to end up battered and bruised. Up ahead, Beck could make out the tall light poles that signalled the city limits. "Nearly there," he said to himself.

In an instant everything changed. The road ahead suddenly became blocked by an orange Occupation barrier and several tanks. Dozens of black guards filed onto the roof tops while still more rezzed their light cycles and barricaded the way. The din of the their engines was overshadowed by the rumble of recognizers coming in behind. They were trapped.

The programs began to slow down, panicking. "Keep going!" Tron yelled as he sped up. The other programs after a moment's hesitation, followed; they trusted Tron. The group shot towards the barrier.

The black guards were unnerved, "They're not slowing down!" one shouted.

"What did you expect," another replied, with a tinge of awe, "That's Tron," he pointed to the lead cycle ridden by a program in almost all black.

"How do you know that?!" exclaimed the first guard. His question was interrupted as a disk blew past him, grazing his helmet. The disk expertly hit the cannon of one of the tanks causing it to swing wildly to the left, blasting a hole into a nearby street. With a new opening in the barrier, the program in black lead the group of cycles through the hole into a side street, completely bypassing the Occupation forces.

"That's how," replied the first guard.

Back with the garage's programs, they all had fallen into a single file line to fit in the side passage. "We'll head back into the city, there are several pipe lines that lead under the barrier into the Outlands," Tron was shouting over his shoulder, "That's our ticket out."

"What did he say?" Link called from the middle of the pack, but he was drowned out by the several light jets and recognizers the screamed overhead.

In response, Tron simply yelled to everyone, "Stay close to me!" The narrow corridor opened up onto a main freeway. Tron made a hard right and the Uprising made for the city center.

"And as you can see we have everything in order." Telser was leading Clu and Dyson on a tour of his flagship. He could feel the two's eyes examining every last detail of every ceiling, wall, and floor. Thus far, Tesler had actually been pleased with the exhibition, his men had done a literal perfect job in maintaining the ship's spotless appearance. A wide door opened and the trio walked through, "And this of course is our hanger. Every light jet, recognizer, tank, and cycle accounted for." He was feeling satisfied that nothing was amiss when Clu quietly walked past him. He didn't say anything, didn't make a sound, Tesler couldn't even see if his face changed because of his helmet. There was an eerie lack of tell about what Clu was thinking, he just always seemed calm. Tesler hated that. It kept him second guessing at every turn, never certain if what he did pleased, disappointed, or even affected Clu at all.

The Ruler of the Grid stopped at the hangar opening and looked out at the skyline. From the flagship's perch, Clu could see the whole city sprawled out before him. Tesler had the feeling that Clu was trying to peer into every nook and cranny of streets below, searching for errors. It was slight and Tesler saw it only because he was looking for it, but after several minutes, Clu's shoulders stiffened slightly; he didn't like what he saw.

"Tesler," Clu's tone was laid back, "You've got a fine city here." He just let the comment hang in the air like a fishing lure. Tesler couldn't figure out if it was a hook or genuine.

"Thank you," Tesler said, but added, joining Clu in his vigil, "Although there is still some work to be done. As you can see the colosseum is still incomplete, though operational."

"Hmmm," was all Clu replied with, "why the delay?" Nothing had changed, Clu's voice had remained calm, amiable.

"We've had to divert some of the resources for construction towards security."

"Because of the the Renegade?"

Clu's voice was smooth, friendly, dangerously friendly. Tesler's mind was racing, focusing so much on coming up with an answer that he didn't notice the technician waving him down from the other side of the hangar. There was a commotion and Tesler turned to see what it was. The technician had tried to approach Tesler and Clu, but the honor guards, black guards with yellow chevrons on their arms, stopped him before he got very far. He had begun protesting saying he had urgent news for General Tesler and that was what got Tesler's attention.

"Release him" He stomped over to the tech, standing well above him. "What is it?"

"The Renegade and the other rogue programs have turned around and headed back into the city," the technician fumbled.

"So there are other programs too?" pierced Clu's level response.

"I assure you," Tesler turned around, trying not to look panicked, "I have already sent my best, my finest officers to deal with the situation."

One of the honor guards stepped up, he addressed Clu, "Shall we lend assistance, sir?"

"No."

"No, sir?" the honor guard asked confused, not the only one surprised by Clu's answer.

"No," Clu turned to the city view again, "Let's see how this plays out, after all, we have our 'finest' men on the job."

Everyone gazed out over the metropolis streets. Except for the technician. He had meant to tell Tesler _something_ else too. On top of the rogue programs, an identity disk in storage had been stolen. But he thought better of the news and decided to relay that information later, when Tesler wouldn't derez him on the spot.

Zed was scared. Actually, forget scared, he was terrified. The Recognizers that were chasing them had been joined by a squad of light jets. Searing energy bolts rained down on the Uprising's convoy. Zed had watched as the Renegade, or Tron's friend, or whoever he was, had leapt off of his light cycle and tackled one of the light jets head on. He'd wrestled control from the pilot and had used the hijacked jet to draw some of the forces off their back. There reason Zed was terrified is he had just seen the Renegade get blasted out of the sky and crash into a flaming heap.

The shots from the fighters was getting too close for comfort, "Not that they'd ever be comfortable," Zed thought with grim humor. He and Mara were bringing up the rear, blindly following the programs in front of them as they in turn followed those in front of them and so on until it was just Tron. He alone knew where they were going.

High above in the front recognizer stood Paige, her eyes set like a steel trap on the group of cycles below. They were not getting away from her.

"Squads twelve and eleven," she yelled into the PA system, "take out the front runner." Six light jets accelerated toward the head of the light cycle group and took aim at the lone black program at the front.

Tron saw them, "Hard right!" he shouted as he fishtailed his bike around a corner that almost lead in the opposite direction. The sharp turn caught the pilots off guard and they had to regroup, but they'd be back. They needed cover, Tron thought, but the tunnel entrances were still several leagues away. But then he saw it. Rising up from over the rooftops was a single solitary white jet trailer. "Beck."

Beck, who had had a devil of a time with the ejector seat on his other light jet, was barrelling down on the group of fighters. In one fell swoop, he took out four of them as the other two pulled back to the recognizers. He was lucky he had thought to take all the vehicle batons with him after leaving the garage, otherwise that crash would have been the end of the Renegade. Well it was already the end wasn't it? With Tron back, he wouldn't need to wear the white suite any more. A twinge of nostalgia ran through his mind, but before he could give it another thought, the two remaining light jets along with scores of others came straight at him.

"If this is my last day as the Renegade," Beck smirked as he throttled his engines, "let's give them something to remember me by."

Pavel stood on top of the tunnel entrance, his twisted smile growing wider as the chase got closer. In his right hand was a trigger switch and he thought, "Oh poor Paige," with no sympathy at all.

Paige glared out at the Renegade's jet as it took down fighter after Occupation fighter. Nothing they threw at him had any effect and where normally she'd have admired such skill, even just a little, today was not the day to be soft. "Move," she order the sentry at the door.

"Ma'am, where-?" But Paige simply shoved him out of the way. She climbed into the airlock, feeling for the jet baton strapped to her leg. This was personal.

Beck could see the new orange light jet rez up and take off from the top of the recognizer, but more importantly, he could see who was flying it. Beck inwardly groaned. He wasn't going to shoot her, deep down, he still had faith, still thought there might be a chance for Paige. The scream of energy bolts coming from her light jet made one thing clear, she wasn't about to give _him_ a second chance. He pulled into a dive and she followed. "Good, better me than Tron," he thought. He flew low and began weaving in and out from under the pursuing recognizers, hoping to lose her. Though not quite as graceful, she kept pace with him easily, continuing a steady stream of fire all the while. His next thought was to force her jet down, but there was no way to out maneuver her at this altitude without getting shot out of the sky. Well, actually there was _one_ the chase away from the recognizers, Beck pushed his jet to the max, trying to put as much distance between him and Paige before he made his move. The move, in theory at least, was to recompress his light jet mid flight, turn 180 degrees then rezz the jet again so he would be facing Paige. He took a deep breath and pulled the collapse trigger on his controls. It worked! He was flying through the air and had even managed to spin around without any problems, only he was also spinning along his side axis. He was facing the opposite direction, but parallel to his shoulders he was just rotating in a circle.

He almost lost his baton fumbling for it, but he managed to press the rez button again, only the light jet was now also spinning around its side axis. The corners of Beck's vision began to go black as the spinning got to him. In desperation, he slammed the throttle switch. The jet slowed to a stand still, hovering in the air. Then it began to accelerate, faster, quicker, rocketing forward in the opposite direction.

Paige had little time to react. The Renegade's jet was ever so slightly above her's and coming so fast that she had to dive steeply to avoid hitting him. Unfortunately, there wasn't a whole lot of space between her and the ground. And so her maneuver which spared her a collision with the Renegade, smashed her jet into the road beneath them. For a long moment, she just lay on the ground, still. Had she any idea how worried the white jet above her was, she would have laughed. Eventually Paige picked herself up, brushing the now disintegrated remains of her jet off of her. Beck breathed a sigh of relief. Satisfied she was alright, he turned the nose of his fighter back toward the chase.

But she wasn't out, not yet. She glared at his jet for a second until the passing light cycles snapped her out of it. She was standing in the middle of the road after all. But she had to get back to the chase. She looked around at the oncoming traffic and got an idea. Paige had to time it just right. The next cycle coming along was abruptly stopped by her arm clotheslining the rider.

"Hey!" the rider managed to say, still a little out-of-it from the hit Paige had given him.

"Sorry," Paige replied, revving the confiscated cycle and falling in pursuit of Tron and the garage's programs.

Pavel watched as the chase neared the tunnel entrance. His thumb was itching to flip the switch, "Not yet," he remarked to himself, "not until they're close."

"We're getting close!" Tron shouted over his shoulder. He could see the tunnel opening up ahead. Up above, Beck's light jet was doing work on the Occupation chase party, already he'd already taken down four of the pursuing recognizers.

Mara and Zed weren't faring too well though. As they closed in on the tunnels, a stray shot from the light jets above had grazed Zed's light cycle. It began to wobble back and forth rapidly. Mara had pulled up beside Zed, "Get on!" she yelled. Scrambling off his precarious bike, Zed leaped onto Mara's cycle just in time to see his own veer widely off to the left and smash into a building in a shower of voxels. The Occupation fighters were now peppering the Mara and Zed with shots, Mara was doing her best to dodge them but the road to the tunnel entrances was narrow, giving her limited room to maneuver. Because she had picked up Zed, Mara's bike was lagging far behind the group, making them easy targets.

"At this rate," Zed thought to himself as the light bolts rained down around them, "we'll be derezzed long before we're inside the tunnels." But then he had an idea. He took off his pack and pulled out the EMP drive. If he could give it enough power, he could shoot down some of the light jets, not derezzing them, but rendering their engines inert. It was worth a shot at least Zed shrugged as he hurriedly began assembling the drive components.

"What are you doing?" Mara shouted over the din of incoming fire.

"You'll thank me later," Zed replied. He had gotten it assembled, the thing was ugly with a long barrel and a trigger handle at one end. A shoulder stock was mounted in the back and around it were the energy canisters Zed had taken from the shop.

"Done," he shouted, "Get ready!" he called to Mara.

"Got it," she replied, then added, "For what?"

"This," the EMP drive's internal shaft began spinning as it pulled energy from the canisters. Zed had turned around and was Looking down the muzzle, trying to keep his sights on the Occupation light jets swirling around, but they were moving too fast. But why focus on the jets, Zed realized, when there was a big fat recognizer right in front of him?

He pulled the trigger. The resulting force jerked Mara's light cycle forward, but Zed didn't notice because as the shot from the EMP cannon hit the recognizer, instead of turning off, it had sped up. At first Zed thought he had somehow given the Occupation ship a speed boost, but as he watched he realized the increase in velocity was uncontrollable. The recognizers got faster and faster, flying over the programs heads until it careened into a nearby building.

"Yes!," Zed thought, "but it may need some work."

Up ahead, Tron eyed the tunnel opening, they were less than a league away. He looked behind him, all the garage's programs were accounted for and even Beck was still with them, fending off Occupation air support.

Tron turned his head at the loud sound of a engine and saw a single orange cycle shoot out of side street. Its rider's helmet looked as it it had two small ears in the back. It was Paige and she was gunning for Tron.

"Paige!" Tron yelled as he dodged her disk.

"Whoever you are, this is the end of both you and the Renegade!" She pulled up next Tron and was swinging madly at him with her disk. Tron had drawn his as well and was parrying her blows.

"We're not your enemies, Paige!" He yelled fending her off.

"I don't care, you hurt innocent programms! You people are trying to destroy the Grid!"

Tron could see her face underneath her visor, it was filled with determination and anger. But also saw a good person underneath her visage of hate, he saw the person Beck had seen, someone who could be turned, who could be made to see the truth.

He deflected another of Paige's attacks, but instead of retaliating he reached behind his back and docked his disk. Paige stopped for moment confused and Tron seized the opportunity. "We're on the same side, Paige," he lowered his vizor, revealing his face, "I'm Tron, the rumors are true."

Paige stared, eyes wide, "He's Tron? But Tron's dead," yet clearly here he was in front of her. Had the Occupation lied to her? She didn't have much time to think as with her lapse in attention she had lost control of her bike and was heading straight into a wall. Paige came back to herself just in time to leap from the bike before it exploded in voxels as it hit the wall. She picked herself up and watched as the group of programs raced past her, but all she could think was, "Tron is alive…"

They were all closing in now. Pavel could see everything from his perch. The Renegade's group of light cycles were seconds away from the tunnel entrance with the Occupation forces not far behind. He could see Paige on the side of the road, just standing there. He was waiting until the Occupation forces were right on top of her.

Zed was shooting down as many light jets as he could hit. Already he had gotten five and and between him and the Renegade they had cut the Occupation chase team in half. The EMP cannon drained one energy canister per round and he was down to his last one. "Let's make it count," Zed said as he trained the cannon on the leading Recognizer.

High above, Beck was flying circles around the other light jets, doing his best to keep them off Tron and the other programs. He was doing a loop when he saw how close the Uprising was to the tunnels, "Just a little bit longer."

Tron and the other programs were a stone's throw away, "Come one, come on," Tron said.

Zed lined up his shot with the Recognizer and was charging the cannon.

As he fired, Pavel, who had been watching, flipped the trigger switch.

Paige was still standing in shock of her revelation when she heard a loud beeping coming from behind her. She reached back and pulled out her disk. Stuck to it was the EMP.

"Oh no," she said in horror. Then everything happened at once. Zed's EMP cannon hit the recognizer causing it to surge forward at amazing speed, smashing into the tunnel entrance. The collapsing debris began to seal off the tunnel and Tron tried to race past it. But just as he got close, the EMP on Paige's disk went off, knocking her out and disabling everyone's vehicles. Tron and the Uprising's light cycles died on them and they had to screech to a halt as the tunnel entrance sealed shut.

Things were worse for Beck. When the EMP went off, he was still high in the air. With no power, the light jet began hurtling toward the ground. The jet wouldn't even compress back into a baton or let Beck eject. Beck watched as the ground came up to meet him and in a last ditch effort, he pulled his disk out and cut himself free. The jet smashed into the ground and Beck had just enough time to deploy his wing-shoot so as he would shatter into voxels upon hitting the ground which he did with a solid thud.

"Need a hand," Beck lay on his stomach, the wind knocked out of him. He looked up to see Tron proffering a hand. Beck took it and got to his feet.

"Good news is I'm still in one piece," Beck quipped.

"Really?" Tron knelt down and picked up pieces of Beck's faceplate, "Seems you landed in quite a few pieces."

Beck felt his vizor, or rather were his visor was. There was now just a hole in his helmet so anyone could see him. The rough landing had shattered his face plate.

"Tron!" Mara came running over the hill, "Tron, Zed's hurt, he's-" she stopped at seeing Beck.

Beck sighed, this was not the way he wanted to tell them. "Surprise," Beck said.

"You're the Renegade, Beck?" Mara stared at him dumbstruck.

"You can talk about this later," Tron interjected. He turned to Mara, "You said your friend Zed was hurt?"

Mara seemed to snap back to reality, "Oh, eh, yes. He's over here." She led them threw the dust and rubble of what had been the tunnel entrance to Zed who lay sprawled out unconscious with a large gash across his chest. Other programs were strewn around the ruins of their escape, most seemed to be fine except for a few that had been caught in the collapsing tunnel debris. Tron and Beck pulled Zed out from under some rubble and set him against a wall.

Beck knelt down to look at Zed, "This isn't good. We're mechanics not medics, we need to get him help."

"The Renegade, eh I mean Beck," Mara looked embarrassed, "He's right, we need help."

"They have a problem with that," Tron replied gravely. Emerging from the settling dust and smoke were the orange lights of dozens and dozens of Occupation soldiers. At the head of the group was none other than Pavel.

"I'll give you a choice," Pavel's nasally voice echoed in the tunnel ruins, "You can die now, or at the games!" His eyes suddenly focussed on Beck who stood there in Renegade white. "You!" was taken aback, "A mechanic? A mechanic was the Renegade?!"

"That's your problem Pavel," Beck called back, "If one mechanic could take on the whole Occupation," he gestured to the garage's programs who had gotten to their feet, fingers itching for their disks, "think of what all of us could do."

The the orange soldiers began moving forward, closing the circle in on Tron and the programs from Able's garage. Pavel undocked his disk, "I'm going to enjoy this."

Greetings Programs!

I know this was long but there was a lot that had to happen with. I know action isn't the most fun thing to read (ironically) and the long fighting sequences admittedly got away from me. But the next part is going to be much more character driven as Mara, Zed and Beck have to come to grips with Beck's alter ego. Speaking of characters, Part two will feature the return of some of my favorites from the series.


	2. The Uprising Begins: Part 2

Greetings programs! Hope you all enjoy this second episode. Some things to remember is how Pavel has tricked everyone, especially Paige, into thinking that the Renegade set her up (see episode 16, "Rendezvous") and how in episode 17, "No Bounds" everyone believes the Renegade, then hijacked by Cyrus, has killed several programs. But enough of me talking, again enjoy and don't forget to R&R!

Accessing Archived Data…

The Programs from Able's garage join the Uprising…

" _This is something worth smiling about," Tron gazed down at the crowd of the garage's programs, most of whom were still watching Pavel and company run to their recognizers._

...But their small victory is interrupted…

 _Tron turned to watch as Clu's fleet approached Argon, gaging the time until they landed. "We have fifteen micros."_

...Meanwhile, Clu is greeted with a warm reception…

 _With mock worry Pavel said, "There is still the issue of the Super Recognizer, sir. If it was sent by Clu and it's now destroyed…"_

 _Paige picked up the question, "Clu will ask how it happened, sir."_

" _Mechanical failure is what happened," Tesler replied, "I don't want any, and I mean_ any _mention of the Renegade while_ he _is here."_

...And Pavel's plans come into motion…

 _Pavel grabbed Paige and shoved her against the elevator doors, "I gave you a chance Paige, we could have worked together, but you insisted on sticking it out with Tesler. Well his time is up, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself when you take the plunge with him" Paige stomped off, trying to focus on her assignment, unaware of a small EMP stuck to the back of her disk, courtesy of Pavel._

...Those plans cause a slight problem for Beck and his friends…

 _The EMP on Paige's disk went off, knocking her out and disabling everyone's vehicles. Tron and the Uprising's light cycles died on them and they had to screech to a halt as the tunnel entrance sealed shut, blocking their escape._

 _Beck felt his vizor, or rather were his visor was. There was now just a hole in his helmet so anyone could see him._

" _Tron!" Mara came running over the hill, "Tron, Zed's hurt, he's-" she stopped at seeing Beck, dressed as the Renegade._

 _The the orange soldiers began moving forward, closing the circle in on Tron and the programs from Able's garage. Pavel undocked his disk, "I'm going to enjoy this."_

TRON: Uprising

The Uprising Begins, Part 2

They were surrounded. Tron and Beck stood shoulder to shoulder with dozens of other programs from Able's garage. The circle of Occupation troops was closing in. Beck glanced over at where Zed lay on the ground having been knocked unconscious from falling debris. Mara was standing over him protectively, her disk drawn and humming. The other programs had likewise drawn their disks and now they all stood in a line facing Pavel and his troops.

"My, my, I must be having déjà vu, it seems like I was just here." Pavel snickered as he stalked closer to the Beck and the other programs.

Tron stepped forward, "You don't have to do this," he was addressing the black guards, "you don't have to be a slave of Occupation any more!"

"Like they'll listen to you," Pavel sneered, "You, the Renegade and your pitiful attempt at insurgence will amount to nothing! The only true loyalty is to Clu."

"Clu lied to you, to _all_ of you! Tron's not dead." That got their attention, a few black guards stopped in their tracks, listening.

Pavel looked at them then back at Tron who still had his helmet up, "Oh please, you think they'd fall for _that_! Tron has been dead for cycles!"

"No," Tron lowered his helmet, "I'm not." Beck couldn't help but smile as Pavel's face dropped in disbelief. "Listen, all of you," Tron continued, "You can stay and continued to be puppet's of a tyrant. Or can come with us to fight. To fight for freedom once more on the Grid." There was a deathly silence, not even Pavel moved. Everyone was waiting for everyone else to decide what to do. No one noticed as two black silhouettes quietly dash across a nearby rooftop.

A hundred yards from all this lay Paige, unconscious. She was quickly awoken, however, by the sound of Pavel yelling, "That's impossible. It's some sort of trick!" She picked herself up. Her head was throbbing like nightclub music as she staggered to her feet. Yet, through blurry vision, she could make out the two groups of programs, one white, one orange. She saw one of the blackguards make a move forward, to cross between the two groups. Two other guards raced forward and tackled the third guard to the ground. One of the other guards raised his disk to derez the deserter.

"Wait," Pavel raised his hand, "They're all about to perish anyway, if she wants to join the losing side, I don't see any reason to deny her."

The two guards let the third guard up. As she stumbled to her feet, she derezzed her helmet. The deserting blackguard had long black hair with blue highlights streaming through it. She held herself with composure as she walked over to stand by the Renegade. Paige's mind was still trying to piece together what was going on when she took a closer look at the infamous program in white. His helmet was off and his face looked familiar. He looked like… "Beck?!"

Pavel stood with his hands behind his back, "Anyone else?" No one stepped forward. "Good, now destroy them." The orange circle closed in on Tron and the young Uprising.

Tron turned to the young programs of Able's garage and their newest recruit, "If we got out, we got out fighting." He revved his disk and the others did the same, holding ready for the incoming Occupation troops.

Tesler tried not to show it, but he kept fidgeting in place waiting for Paige's field report. Either she would catch him and prove to Clu that the Renegade was nothing but a nuisance. Or the alternative, which would mean failure for him and most likely his immediate demotion. "Demotion" Tesler knew just being a soft way to say "derezzed."

He gripped his other hand to stop it from shaking he was so nervous. Despite that, he kept his face impassible. He, Clu, and Dyson stood looking out over the city as the faint light of multiple recognizers could be seen in the distance. They were all waiting for the outcome of the mission.

"The latest report, sir," Dyson handed Clu a datapad. For the first time, Clu derezzed his helmet to read the report. His face was as impossible to interpret as his faceplate. He glanced over the readout and handed it back to Dyson.

"Tesler," Clu's voice was level, "have you had any trouble with the Tron rumours circulating around?"

"No," Tesler had no trouble confirming that. He had taken every opportunity to deny the idea of Tron.

"Where do you think these rumours are coming from?" Clu asked, his voice layered with hidden meaning.

Tesler chose his words carefully, "The perpetrator is the vandal, the Renegade, himself."

"Tell me Tesler," Clu turned his cold, grey, dark eyes on him, "Do you believe him?"

The question threw Tesler off, "Of course not! It's a bunch of nonsense, Tron's dead!"

Clu looked back at the city and readjusted his shoulders. "So he's lying, then?"

"Certainly!"

"Lying is detrimental to a Perfect System. Do you consider yourself part of that system?"

The air felt ten degrees colder to Tesler, "I do."

"What about your commanders, your men?"

"Of course," Tesler was frozen, he sensed a trap coming.

"Does perfection win out over imperfection?"

"Yes."

Clu put his hand on Tesler's shoulder, all trace of his easy going personality was gone. "So Tesler, If our system, perfect as it is, can't apprehend an imperfect troublemaker, then I'd say there's a flaw in the system." The way he said 'flaw' had a terrible, personal connotation to it.

Tesler swallowed, "I agree."

"Good," Clu brightened with a warm smile.

"So this is it, huh?" Beck thought to himself as the soldiers got closer. He'd been looking at all the alleyways, cross streets, and side passages to try and find a way out. He was sure one or two of them could make it, but there was just no way for them all to get out of this one. He looked over at Mara, Zed, Tron and thought about any regrets that he had. Did he regret becoming the Renegade? It had made life difficult, but the Occupation had already done that. No, he was proud to be the Renegade, proud to have stood up to people who had killed and harmed his friends. He was proud of having them stand beside him right now. He glanced at Mara, glad to have her there, to have Tron there, to have everyone he ever knew there. All except Able. But Beck had the feeling Able would have been proud of him, of them all. No regrets. Beck scanned the incoming blackguards, but his eyes locked with those of a program far behind them. It was Paige and she was looking back at him. So there was at least _one_ regret in his life. He held her eyes as if he was trying to explain everything he'd done, who he was, why he did it all; he tried to tell her everything in one single glance.

So naturally he didn't see it coming. For that matter, no one did. The blackguards were meters away when what looked several small orbs fell from the sky. As soon as they hit, they displayed a countdown timer starting from five.

"What's that?" one of the guards asked as he picked up an orb.

Beck was just as confused when Mara yelled "Duck!" just as each of the orbs exploded in a blast of multi-colored pixels that attached themselves to every surface in the vicinity. Then they began to grow. Their increasingly complex patterns expanding, twisting, weaving in and out of themselves until they completely covered the blackguards and everything insight.

Beck saw their opening and so did Tron, "Run!" Luckily, the other programs had headed Mara's warning and hadn't been covered in the psychedelic pattern which now completely blinded the blackguards.

Tron motioned to a side passage and started waving programs through, "Come on, let's go!" Beck glanced over his shoulder to see that on the side of one of the buildings the pixels had grown to spell out the words, "TRON LIVES." He smiled, "Moog and Rasque."

The two tricksters had climbed down from the roof and were running alongside Tron and the other programs. Beck had grabbed the still unconscious Zed and was tagging along in the rear.

Moog, still wearing his grinning faceplate, dropped back to run next to Beck, "Wait? Didn't you used to have a mask or something?"

"Long story," Beck replied, "I like yours, though."

"Gee man, thanks-!" but he got cut off but a voice from up ahead.

"This way!" Rasque had opened a nearby manhole and was ushering everyone down below. All the programs clambered down the service ladder, the last one being Tron who sealed the cover back over the hole, enclosing everyone in darkness.

"Hey, what happened? Why is it so dark?" Zed mumbled as he came to. Moog took out a glowtorch so everyone could see.

"You're ok!" Mara ran up and hugged him.

Zed hugged her back, "Yeah, I am," then confused, "Wait? Why wouldn't I be?"

"There's been a complication," Tron answered, "Our escape route was blocked off. We were surrounded by the Occupation when these two," motioning to Moog and Rasque, "stepped in to help." he gave them a weathered smile, "Thank you."

"Ah you know, it was nothing," Moog sheepishly replied.

"We saw you down there and knew we had to do something," Rasque said, "so we did the only thing we could do."

"Gave them the old razzle-dazzle," Moog joked.

That served to lighten the mood and everyone chuckled at the quip. Everyone except Tron who cut to the chase, "We need to get out of here. It won't be long before the patrols figure out how we disappeared so quickly."

Rasque interjected, "I don't think they're near smart enough to figure that out."

"Maybe not the local patrols," Beck cut in, "but now we have Clu's troops to deal with as well. They'll know where to look."

"Clu's here?!" gasped Moog, "is that why all those fancy ships been hovering around the city?"

"Yes," Tron continued, "which is why we need a place to lay low until we can figure out a way past the patrols guarding the city limits."

Zed stepped up although he was limping and leaning heavily on Mara, "I know just the place."

"Pavel!" Paige marched over to him.

"Paige, you're alive!" He was trying to save face.

"Can it! I know you stuck the EMP to my disk. You tried to sabotage me so you could make Tesler look bad."

"Maybe," she was in his face and he pushed her away, "you're just being paranoid."

"When I get back," she was deathly serious, "I'm going to tell Tesler about your little stunt. Then we'll see who looks bad"

"We shall see," he turned to face the graffitied wall that bore the words "TRON LIVES" "Now what do we do? They're trail's gone cold."

Paige looked around. They had been making for the tunnel entrances, possibly as a way to circumvent the barriers blocking the city exits. "You there!" she pointed a technician, "Get me a city architect! I need to know the layout of these tunnels." The guard scurried off to fulfill her orders. She paused for a moment. Why had she used the word "architect"? Why did she ask for an architect at all? She mentally kicked herself for wasting time; she _should_ have just asked for the city schematics. The answer as to why hit her like punch from the Renegade, which was ironic because that was where it was coming from. When she first went out with Beck, he'd told her he was an architect and now seeing him here- no she couldn't think about him right now. It was too distracting and besides she wasn't even sure it _was_ him anyway. She had just been knocked out and the air was thick with dust; it could have been anyone.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when the technician returned with another program. "The architect you asked for."

She walked up to him, "I need a layout of these tunnels."

The stomp of the programs' feet echoed loudly in the passageway. Zed was up at the front, despite his injured leg, guiding Tron and the others through the twisting corridors underground. "I scoped this place out a long time ago for the Argon race," he stumbled and caught himself on Mara who was still supporting him, "I wanted to find any shortcuts in the route so I'd be prepared."

Tron was scanning the walls, pausing each time another path broke off into the darkness. "Do any of these tunnels lead outside of Argon?"

Zed shook his head, "Some did, but there was an explosion that took out most of the smaller tunnels." Beck looked away abashed, he'd caused the explosion when he'd sabotaged Tesler's energy drill.

Tron's face grew stern, "Is this a dead end, then?"

Zed stopped in front of a pile of rubble blocking their path, "There's your answer."

Tron sighed, "Alright, we'll need to backtrack, but first we'll rest here," he looked around at all the programs, "we need it."

Mara helped Zed over to a piece of debris that could serve as a bench. Beck couldn't help feeling the stares and looks from his friends as they gazed at his white suite. He reached for his back and removed his disk. With a twist to the top half, the white section detached. Tron was organizing glowtorches for everyone when Beck walked up to him. "I'm guessing you want this back," he handed Tron the white disk.

"And why would you think that?" Tron didn't look up from counting the torches

"Well, you're back," Beck was confused, "it should be you wearing the suite."

Tron stood up, "What's the rush?"

"I'm not you," Beck protested, "These programs only followed us because they thought I was Tron."

"No," Tron turned to face him, "They followed _you_ because you stood up to the Occupation. They followed you because you weren't afraid to fight back."

"But I was just pretending to be you!" Beck protested, "I'm not Flynn's Champion, Protector of the Grid."

Tron made a sweeping motion over the little lights in the dark tunnel, "You saved all these programs. It was you up in the air fighting those light jets, not me." He put a hand on Beck's shoulder, "Maybe someday I'll don the white again," he handed the disk back to Beck, "But right now, you're the program they need."

"Thanks," was all Beck managed to say. There was a loud crash and the two turned to see Zed slip and fall.

"Oh, sorry Zed!" Mara came running over to help him up.

"Speaking of need," Beck said, "there's a lot I need to tell them."

There was a hint of a smile on Tron's face, "Good luck."

Beck walked over to them just as Mara was getting Zed back on his feet. "I'm fine Mara."

"You should get your legged looked at," Beck interjected, "It doesn't look good." Neither Mara or Zed answered, they just gave him a long look.

"Where's your white suit?" Zed asked. Beck had stowed the disk away,

"Don't need to wear it right now," Beck replied, "I guess-" Mara slapped him.

"Why didn't you tell us?!" Her voice reverberated in the large corridor.

"I'd slap you too, but I'd probably fall over," Zed joked.

Mara spun around to Zed, "You're _ok_ with this?!"

Zed shrugged, "It makes sense why he never came to work, why he was always late."

Beck rubbed his cheek from the slap and gave a Zed a raised eyebrow, "You're taking this awfully well…"

With a groan Zed sat on the floor, "Don't get me wrong, I'm surprised. You never really struck me as the heroic type."

"Gee, thanks…" Beck replied.

"But what's the use of getting angry at you? I mean, sure you stole my bike, made me pull double shifts for you, and now dragged us into all this."

"Uh, yeah," Beck said nervously.

Zed continued, "But I know why you didn't tell us anything."

"You _do_?!" Both Beck and Mara replied.

"Yeah sure," Zed leaned back against the wall, "Probably something about putting us in danger and all that." He gestured to the gash on his leg, "Which evidently was a well founded fear." At this, Zed, groping with the wall, stood back up. "I have to ask you something though."

Beck gulped, "Yeah?"

"Did you derez programs? Did you kill Able?" Zed's face was stone serious.

"No, of course not!"

Mara stepped in, "Then who did?" Her voice dripped with doubt.

Beck sighed and sat down. The two did the same, "It's a long story."

"We got time," Zed replied.

"Where to start?" Beck thought for a second, "Do you remember the night Bodhi was killed? Well, that night, I put a bomb on Clu's statue. After that, I was chased by Tesler's commander, her name's Paige, until I crashed alone in the Outlands." Beck rested his head on the wall, "I met Tron out there."  
"Wow. That's incredible," Mara almost whispered.

"Question," Zed cut in, "Were you responsible for the power outages?"

"Kind of," Beck replied.

"What about the crashed Super Recognizer?"

"That one too."

"Beck?" Mara asked, "When we were with Moog and Rasque, why didn't you let me help you?"

"Who's Moog and Rasque?" Zed interjected.

"The two guys who saved us tonight," Beck smiled at the thought, but it disappeared when he answered Mara, "You guys are my friends, after seeing what happened to Rasque, I wasn't ready to let that happen to you." He gave his two best friends a meaningful look, "to either of you."

"All this is great to know," Zed said, "I mean it. But that still doesn't answer my question."

"No, I didn't kill Able," Beck reach for his disk and opened up a memory. A distorted face with luminous lines running across it appeared on the display. "He did."

"Cyrus?" The two said together.

"He was the first Renegade," Beck continued, "until he betrayed Tron. Both Tron and Able built a prison for him, but he got out. He knew who I was and came after both me and Tron to get revenge for locking him up."

"And Able got caught in the crossfire," Zed slumped against the wall, "I miss him."

"I miss him too," Mara added. The three friends pulled together in a large hug, thankful they were still together.

The soft thud of Pavel's footsteps reverberated off the walls of the flagship. He had come back to give Tesler, and Clu, a mission update while Paige scoured the city streets looking for the Renegade. He also taken the opportunity to talk to Tesler first and cover his tracks about the EMP he'd stuck to Paige. Pavel had just left the briefing which had gone surprisingly well, most likely because he left out the fact that he had met someone who _appeared_ to be Tron. He couldn't make up his mind on whether it was real of just a clever trick. But Tron or no Tron, He wasn't about to give up all his ambitions just because some old program had come back from the grave. He stopped as a thought hit him. Paige must have seen Tron as well. What would she say? If she told them that she'd seen Tron when Pavel hadn't mentioned it, it would make him look bad if not like a flat out liar.

He was so wrapped up in thought, he ran into a technician going the other way. "Oof! Watch where you're going, soldier!" Pavel shouted at the humble tech.

"Sorry commander," mumbled the technician, "I just have some important information for General Tesler."

Pavel's interest was suddenly piqued, "Oh? And what information would that be?"

The tech was carrying and armful of data pads. He managed to pull one from the stack and hand it to Pavel, "it's about inventory item 604."

"A stored identity disk?" per Occupation protocol, any officer who was derezzed had his or her disk placed in a secure vault so what information they knew would be kept secret. "Who's is it?" Pavel asked.

"I don't know," nervously replied the technician, "I was on my way to Tesler to get security clearance to find out."

Pavel let a grin escape him; he had an idea. "Why yes of course! You'd need high level clearance to know the disk's owner," he rested his other hand on the data pad, "I'd be happy to get the clearance for you."

The tech frowned, "Protocol mandates that _I_ be the one to tell the General."

Pavel's smug grin faltered for a second; a stickler, eh? "Under normal circumstances, you're absolutely right," he put a hand on the tech's shoulder, "However, General Tesler might not be in the best mood to receive such bad news on top of the Renegade having escaped."

The technician's eyes widened in understanding, "Oh, you mean…?"

Pavel drew a finger across his throat, signifying death, "Anyone would completely understand if you didn't want to tell him yourself."

"Yeah, on second thought, why don't you tell him."

Pavel's smile deepened, "I'd be happy to."

The tech sighed in relief, "Thanks, really appreciate it," and he ran off to complete his duties.

"No, thank you," Pavel replied to himself. He made for the bridge. Tesler wasn't there, but Dyson was.

Link sat by himself in the tunnel, the only light coming from the pale glow of the torches. He was still trying to come to grips with having to leave everything behind. He looked around. Dash was over by Race and Katie, they were sitting quietly in the middle of the tunnel. On the other side were Beck, Mara, and Zed and to Link's surprise, the three were actually laughing. The sight made Link smile; he may have lost everything, but he still had his friends. "Wow," he thought, "One of my friends _is the Renegade_." The realization was just too cool.

His smile faded though when his gaze landed on the black guard, the one who'd deserted the Occupation. She was sitting off by herself in the dark, no one had bothered to give her a glowtorch. Link heaved a deep sigh and felt a swell of pity rise up for the lone program; he had the benefit of friends when he left everything behind, she didn't, the other program truly had nothing and no one. It wasn't right. Link eyed the female program for a few seconds, she looked like she needed a friend. He made to get up then sat back down, she may need a friend, but didn't think he was the right guy for the job. He was a thin, shy, mechanic; he wasn't particularly funny or even very strong. He looked back up at the female program then looked around. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the new recruit but him. He sighed, whether he was the best program or not didn't matter, right now he was the only program for the job.

"Hey," he walked over to her, "I-uh-noticed you didn't have a light. You want to share mine?" She nodded. Link sat down opposite her and placed the glowtorch in between them. "My names Link," she didn't reply; this was going to harder than he thought, "What's yours?"

"My captain always called me 2890958433," he voice sounded shaky.

"Why?" It was a weird thing to ask, but Link had never known anyone with a number for a name.

She gave him a confused expression, "What do you mean 'Why?'"

"I mean," he struggled for the words, "Why'd he call you by a number?"

"Every captain does," she pulled her knees close to her chest, "they just do."

"2-8-9-0-9…" Link trailed off, "What was the number again?"

"2890958433," she said flatly.

Link sat for a moment, repeating the number in his head, but he soon lost it again, "Is there something else I can call you?"

"Why?" she narrowed her eyes.

"I keep forgetting the number," Link said embarrassed, "Do you have another name, or something?"

The awkward tension was so thick you could cut it with a disk. So he was a little confused when instead of getting angry at him, she gave him a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Link replied automatically, but stopped and even more confused asked, "For what?"

"No one's asked for my real name in while," She unbent her legs and sat criss-cross, "For the longest time, I was just a number." She extended a hand, "My name is Raven." Her smile beamed with warmth.

Link shook her hand, "Nice to meet you, Raven."

A ways away, both Tron and Beck watched Link and Raven talk. It was good to see the new recruit being welcomed in, especially since only a few minutes ago, they would have considered her one of the enemy. "There'll be more like her," Beck remarked, "Once word of you actually being alive gets out, we'll be getting recruits left and right."

Tron shook his head, "I doubt it. You've been telling people that for cycles now and this is the first time someone has stepped forward." he crossed his arms, "With Clu here, Dyson is most likely close by and there's little chance he hasn't told Clu I'm alive. The Occupation will crack down even harder on any rumours of Tron." He took a step forward, surveying the scattered lights in the tunnel that represented the hope of the Grid.

Beck sighed, "I know that look,"

Tron turned with a raised eyebrow, "What look?"

" _That_ look, the one you have when you think there's a problem."

Tron furrowed his brow, "This is my normal look."

Beck gave a half-hearted smile, "Exactly." For once, the older program returned the smile, but only just.

"We _do_ have a problem," Tron gazed out at the huddles of light in the dark tunnel, "I want to keep all these program safe, Beck. I'm willing to wager that not all of them are willing to put their life on the line for the cause. They simply needed a way to survive and tagging along with us was their best option."

Beck frown, "You're not being fair to them. These are good programs."

"That's precociously my point," Tron turn to Beck, "This is do or die. I'm not going to force the decision to join the Uprising onto anyone."

They both paused, looking out over the programs who were trusting in them for their safety, "So now what?" Beck asked.

"Now, we still need a way to get out of the city. Whether they join us or not, these programs are still fugitives and the best place for them is far from Argon. Question is, how do we do it?"

Beck looked over at Link and the new recruit. They were sitting quite close to each other and the female program was laughing at something Link said. "I don't know, but I have an idea who we could ask to find out."

The Recognizer descended slowly from the sky. Glaring out from the cockpit window was Tesler as he took in the wrecked entrance to the tunnel. On top of a mound of rubble stood Paige waiting for her commander and for a change she actually had good news. Based on the area sweeps going on at the time the Renegade and company disappeared, they couldn't have gotten past a five block radius. They'd checked each and every building in that range and they all came up empty which meant the insurgency had gone under ground using one of the manholes. But which one? There were over sixteen different possible exits in the area they searched. Luckily, with the help of the architect, Paige was actually glad he'd been there, and the city schematics, they'd narrowed it down to two options. She'd just sent a recon group underground for the first one and was waiting to hear back with their report.

With a shuddering boom, Tesler's Recognizer touched down. He'd left Clu and Dyson on his flagship, he didn't want any trouble to reach their ears unfiltered and he figured there was no one better motivated to ensure that than himself.

"Paige," stepped down from the Recognizer hatch, "Have you found anything?"

Stock straight and at attention, Paige replied, "Yes sir, we've narrowed the search down to two manholes they may have escaped through, we're searching one now and waiting for our recon team to return."

"Good," Tesler's shoulders relaxed. Ever since he'd taken Paige under his wing, he'd known she'd be a valuable asset. His face twitched with a malignant smile as he recalled the irony of her loyalty. Having killed her friends, he had twisted the narrative and placed the blame squarely on the ISOs. He pushed the thought aside, focusing on the situation; there was a question he needed to ask her.

"Commander," Tesler reached down and picked up a piece of rubble, "There is something I need you to verify."

"Anything, sir."

"Some of our soldiers have told me the Renegade's mask broke during his failed escape," Tesler turned and absent mindedly walked over to a tank near by, "did you see who he was?"

Paige's heart stopped. She remembered the scene: the thick cloud of dust, the group of programs surrounded by the Occupation troopers, Beck in the white-no, she couldn't be sure it was Beck, there was so much going on she could easily have been mistaken. Who was she kidding? Of course it was Beck! Beck was the Renegade! Up until now she simply didn't want to admit it. Why though? Because it was tearing her apart, on the one hand, she was fighting with the Occupation to stop chaos on the Grid. On the other, she would now be fighting someone she not only liked, but respected. She simply hadn't wanted to make the choice between the two, but now she couldn't avoid it.

She was a soldier, but Beck was her friend. He was a great guy, but she'd seen proof of his misdeeds. Heck, he'd betrayed her! She was so wrapped up in thought she was startled when Tesler asked the question again, "Paige? Did you see who he was?"

"I did," she clasped her hands behind her back to keep them from shaking, "but I didn't recognize him."

The piece of rubble Tesler was holding exploded from the death grip his glowing hands had on it. "So close and we still don't know who this vandal is!"

"We'll have him soon, General," Paige replied although now she wasn't very excited about the prospect.

Just then, the recon team returned. Upon seeing Tesler, they went directly to him. "There all down there, sir. They're camped in a dead end tunnel."

Tesler smiled, "Finally. We have them trapped."

Paige interjected, "If I may, General, we may want to wait for reinforcements."

"And why would I waste valuable time doing that?" Tesler growled.

Paige honestly wasn't sure as to her motives, "Because the last thing we want is to let them get away again. We have only thirteen men here, the rest are still searching the city." One of the recon soldiers handed her a datapad, "Based on what our men saw, they have thirty plus people down there, if we go in now, they outnumber us two to one."

Normally Tesler wouldn't have cared, but with Clu breathing down his neck, he didn't want to take any chances. "Very well, send word to have our forces regroup at this location."

"General," the recon trooper cut in, "couldn't we save time by calling in some of the troops Leader Clu brought with-"

"No, we will do it with _our_ soldiers." As much as Tesler wanted the Renegade, it would be a show of weakness to ask for Clu's help.

Paige crunched some numbers on the datapad, "The ETA on the reinforcements is ten minutes."

Beck and Tron walked over to Link and Raven, "We need your help," Tron asked her.

There was a flash of surprise on her face, but it was quickly replaced by determination, "What can I do?"

"We need a way out of Argon," Beck said, "but the skies and roads are sure to be heavily guarded."

"And odds are the area above us is locked down tight," Tron added, "it's only a matter of time before they find us down here. We thought you as an ex-soldier might have a way past their defenses. "

Raven was about to say something when she caught a flicker of orange light moving behind Tron. As quickly as she saw it, it disappeared. "I think our time is up."

Tron whirled around and looked into the darkness where the Occupation soldier had been moments before. He squinted into the pitch colored corridor, "You're right," he turned back to Raven, "we're out of time. We need a way out _now_."

Raven turned and looked at the blocked off entrance to the tunnel, thinking. "Does anyone here know how to make a bomb?"

Tron and Beck looked at each other, "I'm sure Zed and I could make one," Beck replied. Rather hesitantly, he asked, "Why?"

Instead of answering him, Raven asked "Where's the guy who broke his leg?"

"That's me," Zed replied, he and Mara had been sitting a few feet away, "I'm broken leg guy."

"If we blew through this wall, would it get us to the Outlands?" Raven asked.

"If it did, I would have mentioned it." Zed rolled his eyes, "This tunnel just leads back into the city."

"But you could blow through the wall?" she asked, her face grim.

"Yeah, we could," Zed protested, "but I don't see how that's going to help."

"Get started on it"," Raven and Tron said at the same time. Tron gave a small smile, he liked this kid.

"I'll give you a hand," Beck went with Zed to start on the bomb.

Raven turned to Tron, "I have a plan."

"Prepare to move in!" Tesler shouted. The reinforcements had actually taken fifteen minutes to assemble but now they had a fighting force of over fifty soldiers, all of them blackguards. Using some construction equipment, they had widened the manhole entrance to allow up to ten people through at a time so they could effectively swarm Tron and the programs below. Paige stood off to the side and made like she was supervising the troops. Her heart just wasn't in it, the thought of Beck being derezzed by someone didn't sit right with her even though she told herself again and again that it was _he_ she'd been fighting for all these cycles, just because she now knew Beck was the Renegade shouldn't change anything. But it had. She kept visualizing Beck's face being dissolved into voxels to try to overcome her feelings, but they had the opposite effect. She'd imagine a disk flying at his face about to finish him and then she'd break it off, it was simply too much.

"Ma'am," she looked up to see a sentry with a datapad in hand. She accepted the pad and gave it a once over. Everything was in order to march.

"I need to run this by General Tesler," the sentry saluted and walked away. She tentatively held the data pad in her hand, not moving. She realized she was unconsciously buying time for Beck down in the manhole. Forcing herself to get a grip, she strode over to Tesler and handed him the datapad; she _was not_ about to go soft, not now.

"Looks to be everything's in order, I want our-" Tesler stopped, noticing something up in the sky; it was Clu's yellow flag ship. The small cruiser hovered in place, overviewing the operation like it had front row seats to a side show. Tesler's face twitched with anxiety, "Get everyone in place, we're going done now!"

"But General, we still have-" Paige was cut off by the intensifying glow of his gauntlets and a sharp, vehement look. "Right away, sir." Paige ran off to start mobilizing the troops and Tesler turned his gaze back up at the flag ship. The smooth and fine cut exterior was like Clu's face; impenetrable. If Tesler could have seen who was on the bridge, he would have been very surprised. Three figures stood looking out the viewport, down at the columns of troops about to descend beneath the streets of Argon. Clu had his helmet back up and he was as mute as he was calm. Next to him was Dyson, coldly calculating the chances of success for Tesler. But then there was the third program, a newcomer.

"I wanted to thank you," Dyson said to the other program, "for coming to me directly with the information."

"Of course," the third program smirked, "I was afraid that if I gave it to General Tesler, he would have kept it a secret and you'd have never known about the missing disk."

Dyson turned to face the program, "By the way, when I came the first time, I got your colleague's name, but not yours."

"Commander Pavel, sir," Pavel made a exaggerated bow, "at your service."

It was Clu who spoke next, "If Tesler fails here today, we may need your service." The three watched as the battalion of blackguards below began to make their way underground.

It was dark. The black guards had to rely on a blurry form of night vision to see where they were going, but not for long. As they all too quietly approached the campsite of the Uprising, they could make out the glowtorches' faint light. What they also say was an explosion. The sound reverberated intensely in the narrow tunnel and the dust thoroughly ruined any visibility the guards had, night vision or not. However, the dust was thin enough for the guards to discern a lone program in white duck through a new hole in the wall and disappear. "It's the Renegade!" someone shouted. All fifty guards rushed through the hole just in time to see the Renegade rez his light cycles and ride off, followed by several other programs. "They're escaping!" One by one, the fifty black guards popped their batons and rode off in pursuit. Paige was down in the tunnels with them and was about to follow when a noise stopped her. She turned around into the tunnel the explosion had come from. She didn't see anything for a second but then they started to appeared. Hidden in the corner were a dozen programs with their gridlines switched off making them nearly invisible in the dark.

"I almost fell for it," Paige pulled out her disk, "I have to admit, that was pretty clever."

A male program stepped forward, it was Beck and he had his disk drawn, "Get out of here," he said over his shoulder, "stick to the plan."

Another program spoke up, "Beck, we can't just-"

"Go, Zed!," Beck shouted, a set of resolve on his face, "You can lead the others out the other way, now GO!"

Reluctantly, the other programs made for the entrance that Paige and the guards had entered through. They rezzed their cycles and drove off, leaving Paige and Beck alone.

"Reminds me of how we first met," Beck quipped, his voice echoing in the silence. "When you were chasing me all over Argon."

Paige just glared at him, "I thought you were a good program."

Beck sighed, "I am-"

"THEN HOW CAN YOU DO THIS?!" Paige yelled at him.

"It's not what you think-"

"Oh, no?! Tell that to the programs you've derezzed, the lives you've ruined!" At this she hurled her disk at him. He deflected it but was knocked off balance by the blow. She took the opportunity and rushed him. He got his footing back in time to sidestep a punch to the head.

"Paige, would you just listen!" Beck pleaded. She had gotten her disk back and was winding up for another throw.

"I _did_ listen and even when I didn't know you were the Renegade, it still got me into trouble!" Beck wasn't on his game, he didn't want to hurt her so her next throw caught him with his guard down, nicking him in the right arm. He dropped his disk.

"Ahhh!" His cry bounced around in the empty corridor. The pain brought him to his knees for a second. Unfortunately that's all Paige needed. She tackled him to the ground, pinning him with a knee on his chest and her other foot on his good arm so he couldn't grab his disk.

"I've had enough of you, Renegade." Not using his name stung more than the wound in his arm.

But Beck wouldn't give up, "Paige, I never derezzed those programs, I've never derezzed anyone! But you're about to. Is this really what you want to do?"

Paige's scowl deepened, "If it means getting rid of you, then yes." There was almost a tear in her eyes. "You stabbed me in the back!"

She raised her disk to strike. Despite her foot pinning his arm, he had still manage to grab his disk. He was about to deflect her attack when he got a better idea. "If you don't believe me, check my disk," she paused for a moment, "If I'm lying, you'll know."

There was a long moment where neither of them moved. Then with deliberate slowness, she took the disk from him. "If you try anything-"

"What am I going to try? You have my disk," he replied. Opening his memories, Paige combed through them to find the date when the programs had been killed. She stopped and gasped, Beck could see in the display that she'd found the memory when Bodhi died. "He was my friend," Beck simply said.

Paige looked at him, all traces of anger gone. Then coming back to herself she resumed her search. But she stopped again when another face appeared, it was Tron when he had first captured Beck, "He's-he's alive…" She swiped her hand on the display, eventually coming to the date the explosion had killed the programs. She could see Beck was nowhere near the incident, he was at the garage, working. She collapsed the display and stood still for a moment.

"Everything I ever said, whether I was me or the Renegade, is all true," Beck put pressure on his other arm to keep his energy from bleeding out. Paige looked up and saw the cut. Without speaking, she open his disk again and after rearranging a few things, handed it back. Beck took it and redocked it on his back, after a second, the cut on his arm vanished. "Thanks," he said at a loss for words.

"Go," was her only reply.

"Paige..." his tone was soft.

"Just go," there was hurt in her voice.

She looked up and met Beck's eyes. They shared a long look, each hoping the other would be alright. With nothing else to say, Beck walked off, rezzed his light cycle and rode off, following the others. Paige stood alone in the dark corridor, surrounded only by diffuse light of the glowtorches.

"You ok?" Zed asked as Beck rode up to meet them. They were in a cave near the outskirts of the city, waiting for Tron, Raven and a few other programs to show up.

"I'll be fine," Beck replied even though felt like anything but fine. "Have the others arrived yet?"

"No, but I think they're about to," Mara said, pointing up in the sky as several blue and white light jets streaked toward their position. As soon as Tron landed, he asked, "Did we lose anyone?"

"Nope," Zed said with confidence, "Everyone here in one piece."

Tron turned to Beck, "Raven's plan worked. We lead the guards away and in mid-chase, switched to the light jets you took from Able's garage."

"While we slipped out from behind them when they chased you," Mara continued.

Tron was wear the white suit and he took of his disk to hand back the white half to Beck, "Looks like I wore the white sooner than I thought." Beck wordlessly accepted the partial disk. His mind was still on Paige.

"No everyone, listen up!" Tron stood on a boulder to address everyone. "Now that you're safely out of Argon, I want to help you anyway I can. We will escort you to any other city you'd like to make sure you arrive safely. From there you can start over, disappear to never be found by the Occupation." His voice rang out, "For those who would like to stay, to join the Uprising, it will be difficult, we will lose programs, friends, people you care about. But in the end, we will bring freedom back to the Grid." Tron looked out over the crowd of programs, "The choice is yours, but make it wisely."

There was a pause, then Mara stepped up, "I'm with you Tron."

"So am I," Zed hobbled forward on his bad leg.

Each program from the crowd stepped up. Not a single person declined the offer. Tron crossed his arms, the look of a leader. "Then it's decided," he gave a genuine smile, "programs, welcome to the Uprising."


	3. Episode 3: Adjustment Day

Accessing Archived Data…

Beck reveals the truth...

" _I guess-" Mara slapped Beck._

" _Why didn't you tell us you were the Renegade?!" Her voice reverberated in the large corridor._

...To more people than he intended…

 _Paige just glared at him, "I thought you were a good program."_

 _Beck sighed, "I am-"_

" _THEN HOW CAN YOU DO THIS?!" Paige yelled at him._

" _It's not what you think-"_

" _Oh, no?! Tell that to the programs you've derezzed, the lives you've ruined!"_

..Meanwhile Tesler's effectiveness is questioned…

 _Clu put his hand on Tesler's shoulder, all trace of his easy going personality was gone. "So Tesler, if our system, perfect as it is, can't apprehend an imperfect troublemaker, then I'd say there's a flaw in the system." The way he said 'flaw' had a terrible, personal connotation to it._

 _Tesler swallowed, "I agree."_

" _Good," Clu brightened with a warm smile._

...as Pavel's personal power grows...

" _Excellent work Pavel," Tesler gave Pavel a pat on the back "to reward you I'm granting you command of your own district."_

" _My own district…" Pavel replied, dreamy eyed._

" _Purgos," Tesler spat out the name, "That foul stink hole where Gorn operated. You're the best program to clean it up for me"_

 _Later in the depths of Purgos, Pavel spoke, "Oh and I trust you'll keep mum about my involvement, of course." Gorn sat up, her face frozen in a eerie, plastered smile. "That's the spirit Gorn, just smile and nod your head. Ah ha ha ha!"_

...Just as Beck and Tron gain a victory…

 _Tron crossed his arms, the look of a leader. "Then it's decided," he gave a genuine smile, "programs, welcome to the Uprising."_

—

Paige put her hand on the side of the light chopper to steady herself. She, Pavel, and the remainder of her troops were flying back to Tesler's command ship. Her grip on the side of the chopper was more to steady her mind than herself. So many thoughts rushed through her head; Beck was the Renegade, Tron was alive, she had let Beck go, it was all just so much. But one thought consistently pushed itself to the surface; what was Tesler going to do with her? She had failed her mission, she had let Beck go and even if Tesler never figured out who Beck was or that she had been the direct cause of his escape, the assignment was still her responsibility. On top of that, they were all under the watchful eye of Clu. Any mistake that normally would have been dismissed would now certainly be met with more stiff discipline.

She glanced over at Pavel who, after the dust had settled, had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. More suspicious was how he wouldn't say where he'd been for the last few milicycles. Paige put a hand to her throbbing head, there would be time to sort that out later, right now she needed to think of something to tell Tesler.

The two stood in the hangar waiting for Paige to arrive. Dyson bore the calm reserve of his superior Clu: impassive, cool, and even bordering on friendly. Woe to anyone who mistook his appearance. Next to him, a foot taller, but seemingly the lesser for it was Tesler. The tall program stood erect with an unwavering gaze set on the approaching light choppers. Their pulsing beat, even from so far away, reverberated in the ship's hangar. Tesler had spent the last few cycles in constant agitation, worrying over his position, over whether Clu would find him unfit for duty and derez him. Now, however, any trace of anxiety was gone. When the mission to capture the Renegade had come up empty handed (again) Tesler knew what he needed to do to maintain his place in the hierarchy. Clu had as much as threatened him that _someone_ was going to have to be held responsible for any failures from that point on. Tesler knew such a someone, in fact he had made her what she was today. He admitted he was a little disappointed he'd have to get rid of her, but from the beginning she was an asset and nothing more, a helpful pawn in a much bigger game. But now he was in checkmate and something had to give.

The swarm of light Choppers touched down inside the hanger and the battalion of black guards disembarked. The last one to land was Paige's and she was the last one to get off. Tesler and Dyson were waiting only a few yards away. Of the two, one had his disk drawn. Tesler hadn't ignited it yet; it rested in his grip, unlit.

"Paige!" Tesler barked across the hanger. Standing up straight and adjusting her uniform, Paige made her way to the two programs. Whatever happened, she'd face it with dignity. While she was walking, she chanced to see Pavel as he made his way to the elevator. Before the doors closed, he gave her a wide smile and although she couldn't hear it, she was sure he was laughing.

She planted herself at attention in front of Dyson and Tesler. The former was giving her an inquisitive look. "May I have your disk?" Dyson asked. She reached behind her back but then she saw the disk in Tesler's hand. The cutting edge wasn't on, but she was wary all the same. After a brief hesitation she handed her disk over to Dyson, who, upon receiving it, seemed to forget about her and began combing through her memories. Tesler quickly recaptured your attention.

"Paige," Tesler's tone wasn't angry, it was neutral, business like, professional, "you failed."

"General, I-" Paige protested but Tesler put his hand up for her to stop.

"I saved you. I rescued you from the ISOs." he began circling her, "I expected more. I guess I was being too optimistic." He stopped walking and stood behind her.

"I will not fail you again, sir," Her heart was beating fast.

"That's the thing Paige, if we want to create the perfect system," the sound of ripping plasma filled her ears as she heard his disk ignite behind her, "then we can't afford second chances." There was a whoosh as Tesler brought the disk down on her and Paige closed her eyes, prepared for the end.

TRON: Uprising

Adjustment Day

Far in the distance, farther away than anyone could see, specks of light made their way up a mountainside. The Uprising traversed the cloaked pathway to Tron's hideout deep in the Outlands. The journey had been a talkative one, everyone wanted to ask Beck questions, how long had he been the Renegade? Had he ever fought Tesler? Why was his suite white? Could he show them any cool fighting moves? At any other time, Beck would have been happy to tell them everything, he'd had to keep being the Renegade a secret for so long that it would be a relief to finally tell everyone what he had been doing. Despite this, Beck deflected the questions or just gave a simple response to them as his mind was back in the tunnel where he'd fought Paige. He was pulled out of his thoughts by Tron shouting directions from up ahead. "We're coming up on the entrance!"

The jutting edifice of rock that made for Tron's home loomed before them. Beck in spite of himself couldn't help but smile as several programs oohed and aahed at the massive stone structure. The invisible bridge lead them to a small gap in the side of the mountain which opened as they drew nearer. White light poured out from the doors as the programs entered the complex, eventually slowing down to come to a halt in the middle of a large hangar area. Tron arrived first and recompressing his light cycle, did a headcount of their new recruits as they came in. Beck did the same when he got there.

"I count thirty thirty-four," Beck said as he joined Tron at the front of the group.

"Thirty- _three_ ," Tron corrected, "You counted Raven twice."

Beck rolled his eyes, but then getting serious, "So now what do we do?" Beck scanned the crowd of newcomers "What do we do with thirty-four people?" Tron glared at him, "Ok, fine; thirty- _three_ people."

"Same thing I did with you when you first came," Tron folded his arms.

Beck whistled, "That's a lot of people to train."

"We'll manage," was Tron's stoic response, "but this time, it won't just be me doing the instructing."

Tron turned to Beck to get a raised eyebrow, "You want _me_ to train them?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No, I mean, not really. It's just... " Beck glanced over at Zed and Mara, "These are my friends, I don't want to 'command' them."

"Good, because you're not," Tron replied, "Only Clu commands other programs. What kind of revolution for freedom would this be if we did the same things he did. No, Beck you're going to _lead_ these programs."

"That I can do," the two turned back to the crowd of programs, most of which were talking amongst themselves about their new surroundings, "That still leaves leaves almost seventeen people for each of us to train."

"Which is why it won't just be the two of us," Beck gave him a surprised look, but rather than explain, Tron shouted to someone in the crowd, "Raven!"

The female program quickly came over, "Yes Mr. Tron, sir."

Beck laughed, "'Mr. Tron'?"

Tron wasn't amused, "Raven we need to get these programs combat ready. Have you ever trained anyone before?"

"No," Raven replied, "But there's no time like the present."

Tron nodded, "Glad to hear it, because you'll be taking a third of these programs and running them through the basics."

Raven looked skeptical, " _These_ programs, commander? Most of them are mechanics, not soldiers."

"Hey!" Beck protested.

"Raven did you ever have to fight the Renegade before today?"

Raven frown, "Yes, but what does-"

"Did you win any of those fights with him?" Tron gestured to Beck who had his arms crossed.

Her expression soured, "No."

"Beck was a mechanic before he became the Renegade." Raven's eyes widened in disbelief, "Now," Tron resumed, "can you get these programs through basic training?"

Raven stood at attention, "Yes, commander." She turned around to start selecting programs to train

"Raven…" she turned around to face Tron and Beck, "You don't have to call me 'commander.'

She blushed a little, "Yes, sir," and went off.

"You know, I think that's the closest you ever come to actually giving me a compliment," Beck quipped to Tron as the two made toward the other programs.

"Don't get used to it," Tron chuckled.

"I bet I could even beat you in a sparring match now," Beck poked.

Tron turned to face Beck with smug expression, "Maybe before I was healed." Beck just glared at him as the two began picking out programs for their training sessions.

"I am going to do in a few cycles what has yet to be done in the several months you all have had to fix things," Clu stood before three programs. "This city has gone to the gridbugs as is evidenced by the unfortunate case of your commander Paige." Clu's helmet was off and he gave a Tesler a petrifying stern look, "Therefore, I am ordering a city wide reconditioning. Effective immediately."

"We will have guards placed at the entrance of every public building, checking the disks of everyone who enters. We will have doubled patrols with the additional soldiers I've brought. And we will send an armed dispatch to Purgos to expunge the imperfection from within its borders."

At this last one Pavel flinched. Purgos was his jurisdiction, something that Dyson quickly brought to everyone's attention. "If I'm not mistaken, sir, that would fall to commander Pavel," Dyson mused.

"Then I expect your efforts to be quite fruitful," Clu remarked, "I will make whatever resources you need available to you. Clean up that disgrace of a city."

Patel left in a hurry. He didn't want to be followed so rather than taking a light jet for speed's sake, he picked up light cycle. He rezzed the bike and raced toward Purgos, Gorn was too valuable an asset to loose. He met no traffic on his route to the filth filled city, in fact, he didn't meet anyone at all. Granted it was after curfew, but even then one could usually see one or two program hiding in the shadows, trying to push the boundaries of their freedom. But not tonight. Clu's arrival had spooked everyone and not even the boldest program dared faced the wrath of the Ruler of the Grid should they be caught.

Where the lack of people would normally have been a good thing, it soon became apparent, however, that Clu's presence was a double edged sword. As Pavel neared the city's bridge into Purgos, he was stopped by the barrier surrounding Argon. "I need to get through here," Pavel shouted to one of the guards.

"I have no orders saying so," the guard replied in a flat tone.

"Do you know who you're talking to? I am your commanding officer," Pavel barked, "Now open this bridge!"

"You are not authorized," replied the guard, again in monotone.

Patel was about to derez the guardsmen when he realized the program wasn't being obstinate deliberately. He was repurposed, he was incapable of disobeying a direct order. If he was repurposed, then Clu's edict for heightened security had already been put into effect, "How efficient," Pavel thought begrudgingly. He turned his light cycle around and headed back to the city, he couldn't take the risk being linked with Gorn now that Clu had his hand in everything. He would need some other way of preserving Gorn as an asset. That or get rid of her as a liability.

Beck paced up and down the row of programs practicing the combat form he had just taught them. He was back in his Renegade white; it just felt right to wear it while training. He stopped and adjusted the footing of one of his students, showing her how she wanted her other foot further forward when taking her stance. Her form corrected, the light haired female recruit began the drill again with vigor. Beck nodded with approval and began pacing again, eying the others as the rest of them continued their combat exercises.

Over in the next training room, Tron was running his own batch of recruits through the ropes. With a willing volunteer, he had demonstrated several ways of turning your opponent's weight against them. Several of the new people were getting the technique down pat while others still struggled. Tron hadn't been soft with Beck and he wasn't with these programs either, bluntly demonstrating weaknesses in their defense by openly attacking them. But what he seemingly lacked in compassion, he made up for in efficiency. It only took his group of trainees a few micros to master the moves he'd shown them. They moved on to the next set.

The next room over turned upside-down for Mara as she came crashing back to the floor with a thud. Her arms, legs, hands, and her feet hurt, essentially every part of her body that moved was sore. Pushing past the fatigue, she stood back up to face Raven, her sparring partner. Because it had ended up being eleven programs to each trainer, that always left one odd man out when it came to practicing with someone in each group. But Mara didn't care. She'd train with a wall if it meant helping the Uprising. Both fortunately and unfortunately, Raven was much better than a wall.

She took a step and threw a punch at Raven. Just like the last several times, Raven easily grabbed her arm and using her weight against her, threw Mara over her shoulder. Mara had expected that and so before Raven had grabbed her, Mara had hooked her leg around Raven's. So when Raven tossed Mara over her shoulder, she incidentally pulled herself off her own feet. Not expecting the move, the resulting flip landed Raven square on her back with Mara pinning her to the ground. "I'd say that's an improvement," Mara quipped.

But Raven was out of the game just yet. With a sweep of her legs, she knock Mara off her feet, thus trading their positions with her on the floor and Raven ontop. "That _is_ an improvement," she proffered a hand which the defeated but not disheartened Mara took, "Always be on your guard. Having served with the Occupation, I know they're bound to pull a fast one on you if you aren't looking."

"Yeah, for real," someone mumbled. Mara could see the agitation in Raven's face. There had been several people who had made snide remarks about her previous loyalty to the Occupation behind her back. The first few times Mara had nearly scolded the speaker, but each time Raven would stop her saying that it wasn't worth it. The former soldier chose her battles carefully. Clearly, though, the strain of such distrust was getting to her after so many jabs at her integrity. Further thought on the matter was cut off as the door to their wing of the training center opened admitting Beck and Tron.

"That's enough training for today," Tron crossed his arms, "Get some rest." The weary but glad programs filed out of the room.

Mara was the last to go, shouting back to Raven, "Rematch?"

"Anytime," replied the dark haired program. After Mara was gone, she turned her attention to Tron, "Is there a problem?"

"Hard to say," Tron replied handing her a data pad, "Our scanners intercepted this coded transmission from Tesler's ship two micros ago. It doesn't use any pattern we've seen before but one thing is very clear."

Raven saw the insignia of Clu stamped at the top of the message, "It was by order of Clu."

"And for that reason alone, it's worth deciphering," Tron continued.

"We were hoping that since you have a little experience with Occupation protocols, you could help us decrypt it," Beck chimed in.

Raven smiled, "I can offer a more than a 'little experience.' I ran the communications tower in Argon before I defected. I know every trick in the book for decoding Occupation messages."

Tron grinned, satisfied, "Looks like we have the right program for the job."

As the three went their separate ways, Beck chanced to see Zed hobbling down the corridor toward the makeshift dormitory that some of the mechanics had hastily constructed as additional living space. He was using a sort of crutch to walk as his leg was still far too injured to support his weight. Beck caught up to him, "Zed! How you holding up?"

"Fine," was Zed's irritable response.

"What is it?"

" _What is it_?!" Zed spun around, " _I can't do anything!_ "

"Because of your leg?" Beck asked.

"I can't walk, let alone train with everyone else," Zed nearly shouted, "I'm completely useless!" He slumped against the wall, "I just saw Mara and Raven training in there. She's so good. That's how I want to help you and Tron. But I can't."

"Who's so good? Mara or Raven"

"BOTH!" Zed replied, "It's so stupid! If it weren't for this leg, I'd be out there with them. Instead I'm stuck tuning up light cycles and light jets."

Beck didn't say anything. He leaned his back against the wall next to his friend. Zed wasn't useless, but he also could easily see Zed's point; Tron's focus was on training and if you couldn't do that, it felt like there was no place for you. Beck idly twirled his light cycle baton, thinking. Until a medic joined their group or they smuggled Zed into a hospital, his leg wasn't going to change anytime soon.

Beck stopped spinning his baton, the answer coming to him. "Do you have your baton with you?"

"Yeah, and about five other people's too," Zed replied bitterly.

Beck put a hand on his shoulder, "Come on," the two made their way to the hanger, "There's more than one way to train."

Behind Tron's fortress was a vast empty plateau of the Outlands with only the occasional boulder or rock disrupting the flat plain. Perfect for light cycle practice. Zed might not be able to use his legs to fight, but he could still drive a bike. The two raced in and out of the rocky outcroppings, trying to out stripe the other. Zed was a quick learner and soon he kept pace with Beck easily and even began to outsmart him, several times popping out from behind a rock with his light trail such that Beck had to fishtail his bike to avoid smashing into the barrier in a shower of voxels. Beck was initially annoyed but over the course of the training he had to admit, Zed was actually _better_ than he was.

Beck pulled his bike to an abrupt stop and motioned for Zed to join him, "Not bad, Zed," Beck complimented, "It took me the better part of a month to get the edge on Tron when he taught me this."

"So you admit I'm better than you," Zed replied with a smirk.

"Now hold on, I didn't say that," Beck smiled in return, "Besides, there was one other thing he taught me that we haven't gone over yet." He tossed Zed another baton.

Zed looked it up and down, noticing the different markings, "A light jet?"

"Ever fly one before?" Beck asked, compressing his light cycle and taking out his own jet baton.

" _Seen_ one, yes; flown one, no," Zed held the baton at arms length like it was going to explode.

"It's easy, watch," with a running start, Beck lept into the air, breaking the baton. The rigid structure flowed out of both ends like water until it solidified into sharp shape as he shot into the sky.

Zed gulped. He tentatively broke his baton and the resulting jet materialized on the ground. Mounting it he reached for the two control sticks and noticed they were in the same place as on a light cycle. He relaxed a little, "This can't be that hard," he revved the handle bars and the jet shot forward. "Ahhh!" Zed yelled as he zoomed along at a breakneck speed close to the ground.

Beck came down and flew a few meters above Zed. "Pull up!" He shouted to his freaked out friend. Zed jerked the handlebars backward and Beck had to swerve to avoid colliding with the now rapidly ascending Zed. "Ease up!" he shouted, "Let up on the thrust."

After several tense seconds, Zed's jet began to slow down. Eventually Beck caught up up to him and the two glided along at a moderate pace. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Zed had a death grip on the controls.

"Ye-yeah. No-not bad a-at all," Zed stammered.

Clu stood with his arms behind his back on the observation deck aboard Tesler's ship. He watched as the fifty plus recognizers, light jets, cruisers, and tanks streamed out of Argon towards Purgos. Clu had made any and all personnel and equipment available to Pavel for cleaning up the city partly because he wanted to see just how much excessive force the commander would use. Judging by the swath of vehicles alone, not even counting soldiers, he'd say Pavel was using every bit of force possible without wanting to appear greedy. There were footsteps behind him as Clu was joined by Tesler.

"The registrar you asked for," Tesler handed him a datapad. Clu had petitioned the name of every living program who had lived in Argon in the last two years to be drawn up in a list. A list he was now holding. Clu scanned the entries of names, searching for just one amidst the thousands.

"Thank you, Tesler," Clu said absentmindedly as he studied the compilation of programs.

"Excuse me, Clu," Tesler felt uncomfortable using his normal name, "but if you are looking for a program, perhaps I can be of help."

Clu chuckled and handed back the datapad, "I doubt it, he's been avoiding me since the day I took control of the Grid." Clu guessed what Tesler was thinking, "No, it isn't Tron or Flynn; they're both gone now. But this program did know them both." He had a hint of a smile, "We were all such good friends back then."

"I thought he might be in Argon, "Clu continued, "There was a program here from the old system that was made by the same User, but I recently learned he was derezzed in an accident." Clu looked up and gave Tesler a friendly pat on the shoulder as he walked past him, "We'll find him all the same, I'm sure."

"What did this program do?" Tesler's curiosity spoke up.

"He was originally an actuarian program."

"What is his name?"

"I'm sure he's tried to change it by now," Clu stepped into the elevator at the back of the room, "but his original name was Ram."

On the way to Purgos, Pavel had been mulling over how he was going to "clean up" the city short of just derezzing the entire place. The solution he came up with was to go door to door and inspect the memories of everyone on the premises. They'd check for any record of statute violations and if they found any, derez the responsible program. In hindsight, Pavel was glad many of Clu's additional forces were repurposed programs, they could discern what was a violation and what wasn't faster than a normal program could because that's all they thought about. But the true genius of his plan was that Pavel knew most of the programs in Purgos would resist being searched. In the event that happened, he was simply going to derez them for withholding information.

The ground teams had already landed and dispersed with their orders. Pavel was leading a small detachment toward the sector where Gorn operated. While still working on a way to get her out of the city, he already had a plan to get to her without drawing undue attention from the rest of the troops. He was holding a smoke bomb in his hand. They turned a corner and he let it drop, shouting, "Smoke bomb!" just as it went off. All of the guards scrambled in the chaos, trying to prepare for what they thought was an ambush. The cloud of vapor made it hard to see who was who which was exactly what Pavel was counting on. In the confusion, Pavel pulled his disk out and went to town on the soldiers who, in their disorganized state, put up little of a fight to the berserking Pavel. When the dust cleared, Pavel stood in the middle of sprinkled voxels, the remains of his personal guard.

Docking his disk, he ran to the entrance of Gorn's shop and entered only to nearly be derezzed by a swinging disk. He caught the hand holding it to see it was none other than Gorn herself. She had been hiding by the door, waiting to jump the first person to come in. "It's me!" he shouted at her. In response, Gorn, still with a smile, made a distrusting face. "Look it's either me," Pavel pointed out the door to in the distance where they could see building fires starting, "or you take you chances with them and unlike me, they don't have a use for you." He push the disk into her hands and shoved her out the door, "Now let's get moving."

He lead Gorn down the alley way he had entered from. As they walked over the voxels that had minutes before been Clu's soldiers, Gorn gave Pavel a look that said, "Friends of yours?"

"Ha ha, that's funny," Pavel replied sarcastically, he had his back to the alley way entrance, "It's even funnier," he yelled, " _because you can't talk!_ " As he said it, Gorn's eyes widened and she pushed him flat against the wall. Running past the alley's entrance were dozens of programs, disks drawn and some even looked like they had molotov cocktails; jars of energy with a piece of fabric stuck in the top and lit on fire. Pavel hadn't considered there would be this much resistance. He had figured a few programs would put up a fight, but nothing like this. Purgos had turned into a battleground for guerrilla warfare.

Raven's finger slipped. The holo-display gave a bright red "ERROR" message and the code reset. The message Tron had intercepted had several layers of encryption and she had beaten all of them except for the last one. It required a disk scan of the intended recipient in order to open. Try as Raven had, she couldn't fool it into believing her's was the right disk. The alternative method of cracking the code was by entering a timed sequence of characters into the system. While it was computing one value she entered, she'd give it another, and then another, and another, effectively spamming and overloading the encryption protocols and opening the message. Trouble was the encryption was really good, so toward the end of the process the sheer number of values that had to be entered made the process extremely difficult. She had been trying to overload it for nearly an hour now and her last attempt had been the closest she'd come to breaking the code.

Taking a deep breath and cracking her knuckles, she put her hands on the holographic keypad and started typing. The message on screen, changed to a loading bar as it tried to cope with the incoming commands from her fingers. She typed faster. The loading bar slowed down and she typed faster still. The bar was nearly at a stand still, the progress staying at a solid thirty one percent. The system began troubleshooting for a possible error and that's when Raven really flew, her fingers moving quickly over the face of the digital keys. She had passed the point of her previous attempt. She only needed to keep the system overwhelmed for a few more seconds. The troubleshooting message suddenly crashed and the screen went blank all except for the insignia of Clu in the center. Unsure of her success, Raven hesitantly put her finger on the touchscreen hologram. The insignia opened up to reveal a long block of text. It had worked.

"Yes," Raven exclaimed as she began reading the message. Her face quickly went from excitement to horror as she took in the order's contents. She was part way through when she saw something that caused her to bolt for the door. Out in the hall, she nearly ran over Link who was passing by. "Sorry Link. Where's Tron?"

"I think he's up in the observation room," Link replied.

Without reply, Raven raced up the stairs. They had elevators, but she couldn't wait. She took the steps three at a time and burst through the door to the upper floor panting for breath. When she looked up, she saw it was only Beck in the room, "Where's...Tron…?" she managed to say between breaths.

"He just went down stairs to check on the vehicles Zed's been working on," Beck came over, "What's going on?"

"Purgos," she said, "They're going to attack Purgos."

"What?" Beck gasped, "How do you know that?"

"The message from Clu, it was for commander Pavel recondition the city by any means necessary."

Beck ran to the large semi-circle window that looked out over Argon and the ocean bay. Putting his hands close together on the glass, he pulled them apart and the space between his fingers magnified the image of the city below. Sliding the telescopic viewport along the glass window, he found the tiny blip that was Purgos in the distance. Zooming in further still, he gasped at what he saw. There were thick plumes of black smoke in the low light of the Grid and Beck could see the dim glow of building fires. The door Raven just entered through opened again admitting Tron and Link.

"Link came and found me," Tron said, "He said something was urgent."

Beck motioned to the magnified view of Purgos. Tron ran to the window and gazed out over the smoldering city. Tron's shoulder's sagged, "Not again. This is just what it looked like when he purged the Grid of the ISOs." He turned to Raven, "This was the message, wasn't it?" Raven nodded, "Get me the rest of it."

As Raven went back down stairs, Beck walked up to Tron, "So what are we going to do?"

Tron gave a long sigh, "Nothing."  
"Nothing" Beck exclaimed, "We can't just sit here, there are programs dying in Purgos right now. We need to-"

"I know, Beck," Tron's voice was solemn, "But there is nothing we can do. The attack has already started and we don't have the numbers to fight that battle for them."

"So we really are just going to stand by and do nothing about this?" Beck crossed his arms.

"We can't do anything about the attack on Purgos," Tron's face was set with resolve, "but we'll use this opportunity to hit Clu where it hurts." Raven came back in with her datapad and handed it to Tron. After briefly looking over the order, Tron said, "Just as I thought. They've diverted a large part of their security forces to attack the city. There will be fewer guards than ever on Tesler's flagship."

"What's our target?" Beck asked, a fierce look on his face.

Tron nearly smiled, "Do you remember those data cubes we were after?"  
"The ones I never managed to actually steal?" Beck replied, "yeah."

"If that's what we're going after," Raven interjected, "then you should know, they are now in a vault." She look over at Beck, "All those attempts at stealing them made General Tesler paranoid about protecting them."

"If we got inside the flagship, could you lead us to the vault?" Tron asked.

"I should be able to," Raven responded.

"Then both of you suit up," the three programs turned to look out the window at the still smoking ruins of Purgos, "we leave in five."

Pavel's disk ripped through another program. The voxels clattered to the ground as he and Gorn kept moving. They were in unfamiliar territory now as the fighting in the city had forced them both to take a detour. Pavel's plan was to get Gorn to one of the transport trucks that had come into Purgos with the ground support. The trucks were reserved for prisoners that would be taken back to Argon for eventual repurposing. Pavel had left specific instructions for one truck to left empty. Luckily, the soldiers guarding the truck were repurposed and didn't ask why he wanted it left that way. But now he had a problem. He had no idea how to get back to the truck. Right now they were climbing one of the taller buildings for a vantage point, hoping to see exactly where they were in the city. Gorn tripped on the final steps and Pavel simply walked over her to look out on the balcony. He scanned the wide view for the recognizers that indicated the landing zone. His eye caught several orange cockpits peaking out above the buildings far off to his left; that was where they needed to go.

Movement below caught his attention. Clu's soldiers had met stiff resistance, but were pushing the rebellious programs further into the city center which just so happened to be where Pavel and Gorn were. What Pavel saw below was the clash of the two forces. On one hand were orderly lines of orange programs carrying staffs; on the other was a mob of blue, green, pink, and white suits that were surging toward the organized ranks of the Occupation. A quick feeling of panic struck Pavel and he instinctively reach for the jet baton stuck to his leg. It was his last resort if the fighting got too intense and he needed to bail on Gorn. If it came to that, he would lose her, but he could live with that.

"Come on!" He grabbed Gorn's hand and they began descending the highrise. The stairs were on the exterior so when they got level with the roof of another building, they jumped to the next one over. Pavel figured it was safer to travel by rooftop than the streets. A stray identity disk from the fighting below zoomed up from an alleyway and grazed Pavel in the arm. The pain was searing, but it didn't distract him from Gorn. With his other hand, he drew his own disk and held it to Gorn's neck. The moment she had seen the stray disk hit Pavel, she had tried to run. Now with his disk inches from her throat, she froze, putting her hands up, "Don't even think about it," he said between clenched teeth.

It was an arduous walk for them as they scrambled across the rooftops toward where Pavel's truck was. Several times Gorn nearly slipped and fell to her death, but each time Pavel would yank her back onto the roof they were on. Although her face was frozen in an eerie smile, Gorn hated Pavel with a passion. Ever since he had taken her from her shop, she had began to understand that he wasn't saving her, she was his prisoner. Her eyes burned holes in him as she thought that one way or another she'd escape not only the city, but his control.

Purgos was laid out like a pit and the two had a hard time climbing out of the center. Eventually after hours of walking, climbing, and ambling over the mismatched buildings and roofs, they had neared the truck's location. The cut in Pavel's arm stung like a hundred gridbugs, but he was glad they were almost free of the city. He would stow Gorn in the truck, find a medic for his arm and then oversee the rest of Purgos's fall. They climbed down from the roof they were on and there was the truck, only, it had several more guards than Pavel had asked for. Pavel and Gorn ducked behind a building out of sight while Pavel thought about what to do. Why were there more guards? Who had posted them there? For that matter, who else knew about the truck? Gorn peaked out from behind the corner at the truck and the guards, then she looked back to Pavel. Clearly this wasn't part of his plan. She wasn't about to let his mistake cost her her life. In that instant she made her decision. Pavel was jarred from his thoughts by a kick to the back of the head. His face slammed into the building and he tumbled out from their hiding place into view of the guards. Gorn reach down and took the jet baton from Pavel's leg. Breaking the seal, she rezzed the plane and took off.

"Are you alright, sir?" one of the guards asked as Pavel, partially recovered from the hit to his head, sat up.

"Perfect," Pavel said sarcastically, rubbing his head, "Where is the program who attacked me?" In answer, the guardsman simply pointed into the sky at a dimming light jet trail in the distance. "Well don't just stand there you idiots, _after her_!" Several black guards broke their batons and zoomed after Gorn in the stolen jet. Pavel watched from the ground as the several orange lights closed in on the lone white one. As much as he wanted to preserve Gorn, she had made herself a liability and an unwieldy one at that. The Occupation jets opened fire on Gorn's. She was no pilot and many of the shots found their mark on her light jet. There was smoke billowing off her vehicle when another jet entered the scene, also white. Pavel watched in disbelief as the second white jet proceeded to shoot down each of the Occupation fighters. The second fighter then bore down on Gorn, engaging her at point blank range. Her jet erupted in a flash of white light and pixels as the other white jet then zoomed off back into the distance from whence it came. Someone had just taken out the Pavel's executioners and the intended victim.

"A medic for you, sir," Pavel's attention was pulled from the strange events overhead to a sentry leading a program in green to him. Pavel cast a glance back up into the sky, searching for the mysterious second light jet. But it was gone.

While the medic was patching up his arm, Pavel asked the sentry, "What's our progress, soldier?"

"Sectors one through twelve and twenty through thirty-six are ours, commander."

"Then that just leaves the city center," Pavel smiled, "Bomb it out."

Pavel couldn't see the sentry's face because of his helmet, but the sentry's shocked tone told him he was surprised, "Bomb it, sir?"

"Yes, bomb it." He cast a glance to the bright lights emanating from the middle of Purgos, "We can make do without those seven sectors."

After a moment's hesitation, the sentry left to fulfill his orders, his steps solemn.

"Are you sure these will work?" Beck had asked Zed.

"Pretty sure," Beck gave him a look, "Ok, I'm sure. When have I ever let you down?"

"This would be a first," Beck had admitted, "Now, how does this work…"

That conversation with Zed flashed through Beck's mind as he, Tron, and Raven rode three of Zed's newly modded light jets. Amongst several other modifications, one of the biggest ones was the new jet's ability to fly extremely high, far higher than any Occupation jet could reach them. Beck looked over the side of his wing. Far, far below was Tesler's flagship. They were almost over it. Part of their plan was to free fall down onto the ship. They would switch their grid lights off to cut down on visibility and they'd be moving so fast that any scanners wouldn't detect them.

"Ready?" Tron called over to Beck. He gave a nodded, as did Raven. Pulling his jet into a tight loop, Tron arched overhead, collapsed it, then shot straight down in free fall. Beck and Raven followed suit. The air whirled past them as their speed increased. Clouds, passing data streams, and the ever present pinpricks of white light that served as elevation marks flew past them as they descended. When they were still a few hundred meters from the landing zone, all three pulled their wing-shoots. Although they were still falling fast, they had slowed down a bit which gave them greater control. With Tron leading, they aimed toward the top of Tesler's ship. With a bump and a roll to soften the landing they touched down. Using hand signals, Raven took point and guided them over to a service hatch. Ducking through it, they made their way to the back of the ship.

They were about to round a corner when Raven gave the signal to halt. They could hear feet up ahead. Quickly hiding in a side passage, they watched as patrol of sentries passed by. Once they were gone, Beck whispered, "How much further?"

"Not far," Raven motioned to keep moving as they made their way deeper into the flagship. Beck, who had infiltrated the ship multiple times, had never probed this deep into Occupation territory. The group passed several control rooms and observation decks that Beck didn't even know existed. One of these rooms looked to house a sort of clock-in, clock-out station. Beck's face twitched with a smile, even the bad guys had to be on time. He couldn't help it as his mind wandered back to Paige. He imagined her checking her disk into the station each morning just as he would check in at the garage. What had happened to her? Was she alright? Beck made a mental note that if he could, he'd sneak back to that room and see if Paige had clocked in that day. If she had, then she was alright. If not then he would have to confront the possibility that she was dead.

The trio had reached a four way intersection. Besides the one they had come from, each of the three others lead down flights of stairs to large blast doors. "The vaults," Raven said.

"Good work," Tron put a hand on her shoulder, then to Beck, "Do you still have your wrench?"

Beck pulled it out and did one of his customary hand flips with it, "Never leave the secret base without it."

"Funny," Tron remarked, "Do you think you can open these?"

"Let me take a crack at it." Settling down on vault directly in front of them, Beck plugged in the wrench and brought out the sub code of the blast door. He whistled, the thing had redundancies for redundancies. "This may take a minute," Beck said as he began combing through the door's code.

"Hurry. It doesn't sound like we have much time," Tron replied as all three programs stopped and listened. There were footsteps.

"I'm pleased to know that reclamation of Purgos went well," Dyson said.

"Extremely," Pavel replied. He hadn't mentioned the strange white jet that had gunned down some of his guards, "Such a shame that most of city's citizens died in the process."

"No great loss I say," Dyson responded, "If we had a working repurposing center here, then there may have been a use for them. But as the one under construction has a ways to go before completion, deresolution is the best answer to those who cannot conform to perfection."

"I couldn't agree more," Pavel only just realized where they were they were going, "If I may ask, sir, why are we heading to the data vaults?"

Dyson didn't smile, but his look was satisfied, "Clu has given me permission to inform you of a certain initiative."

"I'm honored by our ruler's invitation," then adding with a probing tone, "is Tesler part of this initiative?"

Dyson rested his hands behind his back, "Not yet. We will evaluate his performance in the coming cycles. If he-" He and Pavel stopped along with their detachment of guards. They had reached the vaults and one of the blast doors was open, revealing the dark unlit room beyond. "We have intruders." He yelled to the guards, "Secure the vault!" The six accompanying guards moved forward but didn't enter the vault's door before three programs emerged. One was in white, the second with a blackguard's armor but blue grid lines instead of orange, and the third had no grid lines at all, just a black suite. Dyson flinched as he saw the third program.

"The Renegade" Pavel shouted, drawing his disk, "You just can't stay away can you?"

"That's me," Beck wittily replied, "Always looking for trouble.

"Get them! Pavel shouted.

The guards moved to attack but the three programs were faster and better trained. Tron attacked first, engaging three black guards and Dyson simultaneously. Beck moved to engaged a fourth guard while dueling Pavel. Raven dodged in and out of the two remaining guards' attacks. From somewhere behind Beck, Tron yelled through the fray, "Split up, meet back at the rendezvous!" Beck didn't need telling twice. With a deft move, he threw the guard he was fighting over his shoulder into the unsuspecting Pavel, knocking the latter out cold. While he dashed through the passage they came through, Raven dispatched her two guards, but instead of using the same exit as Beck, took a bomb from her belt, set the timer for five seconds and stuck it to wall. The resulting explosion gave her an opening into an adjacent hallway which she ran through to escape.

"You'll never win, Tron," Dyson stammered as he struggled to fend off Tron's barrage of attacks. The Champion of the Grid had long since knocked out the three guards that had tried and failed to help their commander. "There are too many of us, you can't beat us all!" Dyson was using the energy whip attached to his disk. Tron, with seemingly no effort, grabbed the whip and pulled Dyson towards him. He clotheslined him, sending his former friend to the floor where he was pinned.

"I'll take the small victories where I can get them," Tron raised his disk, but glanced up to see a score of additional guards coming their way. He looked back to Dyson, "Until we meet again, old friend." As the guards closed in, Tron smashed a smoke bomb, filling the room with a dark haze. When the air cleared, he was gone.

Beck had ducked into a side room as the guards raced by, no doubt in response to their heist on the vaults. A quick look around surprised him, he was in the check-in room he had noticed earlier. Again he thought of Paige. Making sure no one was coming, he went to the controls and began searching for her name. He came to the "P"s and scrolled down. Nothing. He began to worry when he remembered she was a commander, her entry would start with a "C." He typed it in, but still no results. Now he worried. He tried several other combinations: medic Paige, officer Paige, lieutenant Paige. He couldn't find her. He slumped to the floor, his head in his hands, trying to fight the notion welling up in the back of his mind. There must be some other explanation, but the more he thought about it the more certain he was. Why was he so sad? It wasn't as if he knew her that well. He had liked her sure, but not enough to feel this way. But he had, in more ways than one. He not only liked her and maybe something more, but he had seen a ray of hope in Paige, a chance to turn from the lies of the Occupation and help him and Tron. He had wanted to free her from the oppression that had killed and oppressed his friends. Now, however, he realized he'd been too late. Clu's great conquest of perfection had crushed her in its wake leaving Beck feeling defeated and hopeless. That was two people he cared about now taken by Clu's regime.

Rising from his thoughts, he picked himself up. After looking into the hallways to check for guards, he ran out, making for the exit and after that, for home.

"Your back!" Mara exclaimed as Beck pulled into the hideout, "You were getting us all worried."

"I took a wrong turn," Beck replied sheepishly. Mara and Tron were waiting for him in the hanger.

"Glad you made it back," Tron said, "Did the cube make it out with you?"

Beck pulled out the data cube he had managed to steal. He thought about Paige, about Bodhi, about Able, Zed, Mara, and Tron. His hand tightened with resolve around the cube, he wasn't going to let the Occupation take anyone else. He handed it to Tron, "I did."

"Good. Raven manage to keep hers as well. There was quite a bit on it. I'm interested to see what your's has to tell us."

"Wait," Beck grinned, "You didn't make it out with yours, did you?"

"Your class is waiting for you," was Tron's reply.

Beck laughed, "I can't believe it. What happened? Did you drop it?"

Tron had a sour expression, "Dyson is what happened, he must have pulled it off me when we were fighting."

"Well if it was Dyson..." Beck joked, still amused.

"Just get inside," Tron grumbled.


	4. Episode 4: Raven's Reckoning

Accessing Archived Data…

Beck experiences a loss…

 _Beck couldn't find Paige. He slumped to the floor, his head in his hands, trying to fight the notion welling up in the back of his mind. Clu's great conquest of perfection had crushed her in its wake leaving Beck feeling defeated and hopeless. That was two people he cared about now taken by Clu's regime._

...While the uprising gains a victory…

" _Glad you made it back," Tron said, "Did the cube make it out with you?"_

 _Beck pulled out the data cube he had managed to steal. He thought about Paige, about Bodhi, about Able, Zed, Mara, and Tron. His hand tightened with resolve around the stolen data cube, he wasn't going to let the Occupation take anyone else. He handed it to Tron, "It did."_

...However, distrust begins to take shape...

 _There had been several people who had made snide remarks about Raven's previous loyalty to the Occupation behind her back. The first few times Mara had nearly scolded the speaker, but each time Raven would stop her saying that it wasn't worth it. The former soldier chose her battles carefully. Clearly, though, the strain of such distrust was getting to her after so many jabs at her integrity._

...But some welcome the newest addition to the Uprising…

" _My captain always called me 2890958433," her voice sounded shaky._

 _Link sat for a moment, repeating the number in his head, but he soon lost it again, "Is there something else I can call you?"_

" _Why?" she narrowed her eyes._

" _I keep forgetting the number," Link said embarrassed, "Do you have another name, or something?"_

 _She gave Link a smile. "Thank you."_

" _You're welcome," Link replied automatically, but stopped and even more confused asked, "For what?"_

" _No one's asked for my real name in while," She unbent her legs and sat criss-cross, "For the longest time, I was just a number." She extended a hand, "My name is Raven." Her smile beamed with warmth._

 _Link shook her hand, "Nice to meet you, Raven."_

...And Beck makes a promise to a friend…

 _Link turned towards Beck, "Even though Abel's gone, this place is still home. I don't know if I can leave it."_

 _Beck sighed. He couldn't tell Link, but the same feeling had hit him. "You'll come back here someday," Link looked up, "That's what we're fighting for so that we don't lose anything or anyone else."_

—

 _Raven hung onto the cliff. It was black all around her except for the lone program standing on ledge. It was a female program, her long, braided, golden-red hair hung to her waist. She was as young as Raven remembered her. The blonde program kneeled down closer to Raven as her fingers began to weaken. "Help!" Raven shouted, 'I'm slipping!"_

" _You're afraid to fall," replied the other program. She grabbed Raven's hand and pulled her up to eye level. "That's good," she let go. Raven screamed as she plummeted down. Air and water swirled around her as she landed on the edge of the Sea of Simulation, the artificial waves lapped at the rocks she stood on. A smooth yet forceful hand jerked Raven's head around to face the blonde program. Raven drew her disk, but couldn't look away. For her, those deep golden eyes seem to swallow her, engulf her mind and motivation in a cold, metallic grasp. It would be so easy to give in here, to let go and submit. Then for an instant, she saw a flash of white in that sea of gold. A white pure and noble and she knew. "I won't say them," Raven replied, her voice still shaky, but confident._

 _The blonde program grabbed Raven's arm holding her disk, "Come one," she said as she slowly moved the disk toward her own chest, "You can't refuse," She pressed the disk to her sternum, "Say those words." Raven's disk began to be absorbed by the other program until it was gone, "Say them."_

 _Raven fought the words. They rose up in her throat, welling with memories and feelings. There was panic, pain, anguish, and a throbbing dread that drove the words to her lips, but before she could say them, she saw a figure in the distance. She couldn't see his face, but his suit was white and his chest bore four small squares forming a capital "T."_

" _Tron," she thought. Redoubling her efforts to fight the words, the words she knew she must not say, Raven replied, "I will not say them."_

 _There was a flare of orange light as the other program's gridlines flamed in agitation. With a steel grip, she took Raven's arm and pushed her back into the Sea. Where her fingers touched Raven's arm, the orange lines on the program's suit began spreading onto Raven's, slowly enveloping her in Occupation uniform. Raven screamed as the spreading orange lines seared themselves onto her body. The other program pushed her into waist deep water which was now bubbling and boiling around them. "Say. The. Words." hissed the other program. Raven thrashed her arms in an effort to break free, but the only result was her sinking further into the water. "Say them," continued the other program, "You must say them." Raven looked to Tron in the distance and for a moment she could resists, but a wave washed over her head, and he disappeared. With no strength left, Raven sank until just her chin was above the water. Without Tron, the memories came flooding in, overwhelming her until she couldn't fight them. As the black waters rose almost to Raven's face, the other program asked once again, "Say the words, Raven."_

 _Her resolve was broken. Raven, with the dark waters filling her mouth, spoke the dreaded words, "I am afraid." Then she disappeared beneath the waves, swallowed whole by the sea..._

"Aaaaaah!" Raven screamed. She had woken up in a sweat. She was in her bed back in Tron's hideout. This was the third nightmare she'd had in the last five days. She was almost afraid to go to sleep for fear of having the same haunting dream again and again. Having no choice, however, but to resign herself to the night, she lay back down, knowing she'd get no rest.

TRON: Uprising

Raven's Reckoning

She flew in on a lone light jet. Her long braid of gold and red hair streamed out behind her. A single orange streak across the dark sky of the Grid marked her progress towards Argon. She had gotten the message six cycles ago; "Come to Argon city immediately."

The message had said nothing about _why_ she was crossing half the Grid to come to the small city. That didn't bother her; she rarely asked the "why" and just enjoyed the "how." She had been the first person to figure out how to repurpose programs, although she disliked Clu's mass-produced version of her methods. Her own by-hand technique rendered the individual loyal, yet retained their personality. On top of that, it was a lot more fun. Her last assignment for Clu was to personally alter a revolutionary by the name of Cutler. He had been difficult, but few could resist her methods. The only drawback to her techniques were that for some subjects it could take days, weeks, or possibly months to recondition them effectively. But, in the end, they all succumbed to her persuasive voice.

The thin ban of light that was Argon came over the horizon, she was almost there. Pushing her control sticks forward, she speed towards the city, not noticing as several lights beneath the waves veered off toward the Outlands. Tron had been following her almost all day. The Uprising had intercepted a envoy stating a new officer would arrive that day; however, the transmission didn't specify the new official's rank or what their purposes was in Argon. Tron had taken his submersible out to intercept the newcomer to try to discover those two very pieces of information. As he sped back to the hideout under the waves, he reflected on what he had gleamed from his recon, which wasn't much. She was a general with marks of special distinction, but as to why she was in Argon, that was still a mystery.

Whoever she was, Tron's gut feeling told him to keep an eye on her. Based on the data cubes Beck and Raven had managed to steal, they knew Clu had begun construction on a repurposing center in Argon, only they hadn't been able to figure out where it was. What the data cubes had told them was construction had stopped for reasons unknown. That combined with the arrival of this new officer couldn't be a coincidence and Tron had a feeling that whoever this new arrival was, she had something to do with it.

Beck strolled in between the shipping crates. He was flanked by five black guards on either side. High above them, amidst the web of crane towers and suspension cables sat Mara, Dash, and fourteen other programs. Mara stared down at their target; Beck's disk. She nodded to Dash and the group put up their faceplates. In total silence, she and the others jumped. Waiting for just the right moment, they hurled their smoke bombs to the ground in mid air, right in the middle of Beck and the guards. Quickly pulling their wing shoots, the group of Uprising troops stormed into the mist. Grunts and groans issued from the thick dust as several blackguards were shunted out, unconscious.

The tide quickly turned, however, as Dash, in the middle of a fist fight with a guard, took a disk to the back and went down. Likewise, the black guards easily outclassed the other young ambushers. On top of that, Beck's raw skill didn't make things any easier. As three freedom fighters charged him, he grabbed the first, swung her into the second, causing the third to trip and fall. Lying at the bottom of the heap, Mara looked up at Beck as he walked over, docking his disk.

"That was better," he said derezzing his helmet, "End simulation," he told the computer. The shipping crates, cranes, and lapping sea decomposed into basic grid lines before disappearing. He offered a hand to the trio before him and as they got up, he looked around. Most of the attack group were still on their feet. Beck smiled, that was progress. They had run the simulation ten times now and for the first six or seven, the artificial black guards had wiped the floor with the Uprising recruits. Not any more, though, as it looked as if the newcomers were finally getting their combat forms down.

He noticed Link sprawled out on the floor. Proffering a hand, Beck pulled him to his feet. "Sorry about that, Beck."

"What's to be sorry for?" Beck asked, putting an arm on Link's shoulder, "That was good. A few more runs and you guys will be set."

"Yeah about that," Dash came over, "we've been at this all morning. Could we, you know, take a break?"

Beck looked past Dash to see the hopeful faces of the other programs. He smiled. They'd earned it. "Alright. We'll call it a day." There was a collective sigh from the recruits as they shuffled to the training room door, weighed with fatigue

Before they could leave, Zed stepped into the hallway door, "You aren't done yet. Vehicle practice." Everyone moaned.

"Do we have to?" Link asked, rubbing his sore arm from the fighting a few minutes earlier.

"It's for _your_ benefit. You wouldn't want to be shot out of the sky someday, would you?" Zed crossed his arms.

"Zed's right," Beck added, walking over, "vehicle training is as important as combat training." Beck held up a finger, "But rest is important, too. Take a ten minute break before light jet drills." More or less satisfied, the weary programs filed out of the room. Beck put a hand on Zed's shoulder, "I think your promotion may have gone to your head."

"What? Fame go to _my head_?," Zed scoffed as he hobbled after Mara and the others on his crutches.

"Practice went well, I see," a solid voice said.

"It did," Beck turned to face Tron, but upon seeing his scowl, replied, "I take it our intel mission didn't go so well."

"I got more than I thought I would, but not enough," Tron pullout out his disk. After sifting through a few memories, he highlighted one that showed the female program on the light jet. "Notice anything?"

Beck squinted at the holographic display, "She's a general." He looked up at Tron, "Why send a general? They already have Tesler."

"My thoughts exactly," Tron replied. He pulled out a data pad and transferred the image of the general to it. He handed the pad to Beck, "As of right now, finding out who she is and why she's in Argon is top priority. Clu wouldn't ask for another general unless something big was happening."

Just then the door opened admitting Raven. She was slumped over and had to steady herself against the wall. "I'm here. I'm-" she looked around, "Where is everyone? I thought we were doing a snatch and grab exercise today."

Tron and Beck looked at each other. "Raven, the training is over."

"What!" she leaned against the wall, "I missed it?"

"Kind of, yeah," Beck replied, "Are you ok?"

Raven put a hand to her head, "Yeah, just a little tired"

"You look exhausted," Tron pointed out flatly.

"Hey, I can still do this-" Raven replied, defensive.

Tron crossed his arms, "I disagree. Take some time off," when Raven protested, he added, "That's an order."

"Alright," she sighed. "But at least tell me if there is any new intel."

"Yes, but it doesn't tell us much," Beck walked over and handed her the pad, "A new general just arrived. For what, though, we're not sure."

Raven didn't seem to hear him as she stared at the image on the screen. "We're having a hard time recognizing her," Tron said, "Even from my time as a security program, I can't place her."

Beck noticed Raven's hand was shaky as the datapad began to wobble, "Raven?"

"That's her," she replied, "After all this time, she's here."

"Who?" Tron asked.

Raven met his eyes, her own filled with a single emotion: fear. "Phobos."

"Phobos, it's good to see you," Dyson had gone out personally to welcome the newest addition to Argon. The female officer flipped her long golden-red hair as she collapsed her light jet.

She looked up at him, "Dyson?"

"Surprised?"

"Only a little," she walked up to him, "Where ever Clu is, you're never too far behind." Dyson tensed slightly as she put her hand on his chest and ran her fingers up to the right side of his face, "Mmm, some of my best work."

"Thank you once again," he said not unkindly, "for repairing what the ISOs ruined."

She held her lips close to his. Dyson didn't retreat. "Any time," she whispered in his ear as she began combing her fingers through his hair.

However, he reached up and stopped her hand, "Do you know the expression, 'Work first, play later?'"

She rolled her eyes, "When it comes to us, you never seem to get to the second one."

Dyson grinned, "We'll have time."

They then began their walk back inside the command ship. "Speaking of which," she remarked coyly, "It's about time you told me what I'm really doing here. Your message wasn't exactly teeming with information."

A soft chuckle escaped Dyson. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he pointed her out toward the bay area. She could see what used to be a garage, but it was surrounded with construction equipment. " _That_ is what you are here for. Our new repurposing center."

She gave him a raised eyebrow, "It's finished?"

"Not on a large scale. The first few reconditioning chambers are in operative order and seeing as you were the inventor, there's no one better to test their quality."

"An inspection?" she gave him a distasteful look, "you brought me out here to do an inspection?" She narrowed her eyes, "You could have asked any old tech to do that for you. Why ask for me?"

Dyson smiled mischievously, "Work first," he replied as he pulled her closer to his chest, "play later. One of the advantages of power is that I can do what I want. I wanted you here for more...personal reasons."

She cosied up to him, "Mmmmh, you are a devil. I'll have it done by the end of the next cycle." She slipped away inside. Dyson watched with lustful eyes until she got into the elevator. The doors closed and Dyson's practiced smile dropped. Straightening his shoulders, he again looked out over the harbor. He remembered when he first met Phobos and how she had repaired his face. He had been grateful, but she had taken his gratitude for affection. He had been looking for a way to get rid of her and this was the perfect opportunity. The repurposing chambers didn't need an inspection and even if they had, a simple technician would have been preferable to Phobos. No, the real reason she was here was as bait. Once Dyson let word slip about who she was and why she was here, he and Clu were sure Tron would come running. True, they might lose a repurposing center, but if so, Dyson was hopeful they'd lose Phobos with it. She was a pest to him and a dangerous one; if Tron or anyone got their hands on her disk, they'd have the key to the repurposing process, and possibly, a way to undo it.

"Now place that one there," Raven guided Links fingers along the digital surface until the item he'd been dragging across the touch screen came to rest in a neat little box icon. "Alright that wraps what set up."

"Cool!" Link enthusiastically practiced the steps she'd taught him, "Thanks for showing me."

"Glad to," she yawned, "Tron told me to take it easy, but I can't just sit around. Teaching you Occupation code breaking is the next best thing. This way we can both do something."

"Yeah," he turned toward the screen again and after a minute, "Hey, do you think you could show me that set one more time?" When he didn't get a response he looked around to see Raven asleep on a bench. "Uh...Raven?" He said softly, " _Raven_."

"Uh-huh? What?" she sputtered. Catching Link's expression, she asked "Did I fall asleep again?"

"Yeah," Link replied sheepishly, "for a couple seconds."

Raven stood up, "Sorry…"

"No it's fine," Link started, "I mean, I really appreciate you teaching me all the cool decoding stuff but if you're tired…" he trailed off.

"It's alright," she leaned back, "but how about we take a break? I've been showing you those decryption pathways for hours now."

Glad to rest, Link sat down on the bench opposite her. She rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Smiling, Link thought a nap might be a good idea, too. Vehicle practice with Zed earlier had been a doozy with most everyone leaving the training field with no small collection of bruises and scrapes. It also was the first time Link had ridden a light jet and he was relieved when Zed had place the inhibitor code on the accelerator to limit the max speed he could go. Without it, Link was sure he'd have flown off uncontrollably and hit something.

"You're doing it again," Raven said.

Link nearly jumped in surprise, he'd thought she was asleep, "Uh- doing what?"

She opened her eyes and sat up, "Staring at me."

Link blushed, "No I wasn't."

"Yes you were. Same as you were doing a few minutes ago."

He was about to deny it when he remembered he _had_ stared at her a couple times. "Well, those times I just…" he struggled for an excuse, "wanted to make sure you were ok."

He didn't believe it himself and neither did Raven. Link thought she'd be mad, but instead she seemed touched, "Thanks," she replied, although she gave him a sideways glance that indicated she didn't really believe him.

Eager for a change of subject, "So… have Tron or Beck gotten any info more on the new general Phobos person in Argon?" he asked.

"No," Raven sighed, "And I don't know if I'm anxious or relieved by that."

"Why? Is it because she's the person from your nightmares?" Raven shot him a sharp look and Link looked down abashed, "You talked in you sleep once."

"Oh…" Raven blushed and looked around the room for something else to talk about. Nothing, however, seemed willing to supply food for conversation. So instead, the two sat there for an awkward moment, both a little embarrassed.

Eventually Link couldn't take it anymore, "Can I ask, what was she like? This Phobos person." He was grasping at straws. He didn't want to bring up anything painful for her, but he remembered when Abel had died it had helped him to talk to his friends about it. Were he and Raven friends? He didn't really know, but he both felt an obligation and a want to help her and this was the only way he knew how. "If it helps to talk about it," he added.

Raven thought for second. She really didn't want to talk about what she'd been through. She had been tortured, isolated and left in misery only to escape with her life and sanity. But clearly Link cared. When she'd first joined the Uprising, he was the only one to welcome her not as a former enemy, but just as someone who needed a friend. Even now, with all the rumors and gossip floating around about her previous alliance with the Occupation, Link didn't seem to care. Whenever she talked with him she didn't feel like he was viewing her as a soldier, a traitor, or a trainer. To him, she was just Raven and there was something immensely comforting in that, especially now.

Her mind went back to something Tron had said earlier. He had told her he had gone through something similar when Dyson had tortured him. The only reason he survived was with help from a few friends. Although it wasn't there anymore, Tron had used a healing tank designed by a good friend named Abel that had kept him in decent enough condition to carry on the Uprising. In retrospect, Tron had told her that Abel himself had helped him heal as much as the tank he designed had. They hadn't talked or had any kind of heart to heart, but Abel was a strong and steadfast program; he had understood the nature of Tron's betrayal and in building him, what in effect became Tron's new home, showed how deeply he could be trusted.

She looked up from her thoughts to see that Link was still waiting. However, he took her eye contact for a "no" and stood up to continue practicing the decryption pathways. She watched him for a moment. Link wasn't an Abel. He hadn't moved heaven and earth to help her, he had simply asked for her name. Yet, in effect, he had given her name back to her. He had given her a light in dark place, both literally and figuratively.

She sighed, then spoke, "She was terrifying."

Link turned around, "Phobos?"

Raven nodded, "Her job was to brainwash us into compliance. If we didn't cooperate, she'd send us off to be repurposed." She recalled images of friends, other security programs that had stood against the Purge of the ISOs. She remembered their faces when the black guards dragged them to the repurposing centers as she looked on, helpless

She went on, her voice unsteady, "I don't think any of my friends made it. They resisted and...and I never saw them again." Raven took a shaky breath and went on, "I don't know if it was because I was friends with an ISO before or something else, but instead of sending me off to be repurposed, she kept me.

"When she first started trying to convert me, I told her I would never give in and that I I wasn't afraid of the consequences. So she began hitting, trying to drown me, putting me in a ring of soldiers who… who would-would beat me up. She made it her goal to not just break me, but get me to fear her, to say-to say..." Raven stopped. She started crying softly. She held her face in her hands, trying not to break down completely. Link didn't know what to do. He didn't want her to cry so he put a hand on her arm to try and comfort her. She put her hand in his and after a moment seemed to feel better.

The two sat there for a moment, nothing to disturb them. It finally ended when the screen Link had been practicing on gave a notification sound. Wiping tears away with the back of her hand, Raven went to look and saw it was a new intercepted message. With deft fingers she opened the message and began decrypting it. "Strange," she thought, "this isn't very hard," the message didn't have the usual five layers of code to hide its contents, but that thought disappeared when she at last pulled out the order it contained. Link looked over her shoulder and his eyes widened.

"That's her," he read further into the order details, "She's here for an inspection?"

"Phobos designed some of the first repurposers," Raven shivered at the thought, "she must be here to check out the ones their building in Argon. Up until now, Tron said we haven't been able to locate them." She pulled a copy of the message onto a datapad, "But with this, we finally know where to strike."

"Great! So where are they?" Link asked.

Raven scanned through the information until she came to the very bottom, "They're inside of a large structure… there's an image here." She turned the tablet around to show Link. In front of him was none other than Abel's garage.

"What's going on?" Mara poked her head out of her room as dozens of programs rushed by.

"Tron's called a meeting," Dash said as he passed. Joining the group, Mara and the other programs made their way to the observation deck on the top floor. Upon entering, she saw that everyone had gathered at the base of the elevated platform, on top of which stood Tron, Beck, and Raven. A few stragglers came in after her and Tron gave a raised hand for silence.

"Today is the first opportunity to strike back at the Occupation. We have recently discovered the location of a repurposing center in Argon; inside of Abel's garage," at this there were hushed whispers which fell quiet as Tron resumed, "Our mission is to mount a covert assault on the building and bring down any equipment inside. Many of you haven't been here long and some of you may have second thoughts about going into the field. Which is why not all of you will be accompanying the strike team."

Beck stepped up, "Half of you will stay here in case we're either captured or killed."

Dash spoke up, "I know we're kind of new at this, but don't we stand a better chance if everyone was part of the attack?"

"No," it was Raven this time, "because if those who go don't make it, everyone here will need to carry on the cause." There was a solemn hush after she spoke. Everyone knew she was right, but it was uncomfortable to have the bleak possibility said aloud.

"There will be two teams," Tron paced the platform, "one with me and one with Raven," at this Raven flinched, but Tron didn't notice. "My team will infiltrate the garage and plant charges on key supports, bringing the structure down and the repurposing equipment inside along with it. Raven's team will pull a snatch and grab on General Phobos's disk. Questions?" No one spoke, "We leave in twenty."

As Beck sorted everyone into groups, those who'd stay and those who'd go, Raven pulled Tron aside. "Sir," she looked shaken, "I can't go."

"You have to. You're the only one who has prior experience with General Phobos. We know she'll be down there and you are the best person we have to deal with her."

"Tron," her voice had a slight treble to it, "I can't face her. She's a monster."

"I know," he put a hand on her shoulder. His face had softened and he said, "Although I wasn't afraid, I learned a valuable lesson from when I fought Dyson." He turned to look out the window at the city below, "You can't let them control you. If I had derezzed Dyson, I would have become like him, but I didn't because I knew I was part of something bigger."

"The Uprising," Raven responded.

Tron nodded, "We all have our jobs. Yours is to get that disk. With it we will have valuable information on the Occupation's forces that we can use to turn the tide in this conflict."

Raven cast another look out onto Argon below. Somewhere down there was her greatest fear, but it was a fear she knew she had to face. "I'll do it," she said, her tone firm and confident.

"Good to hear it."

Back over with Beck, he had finished sorting everyone and had the two teams ready. Zed led both groups to the armoury to stock up on batons and bombs while those who stayed settled in. Beck was about to show some of them how to use the advanced observation deck window to watch the operation from afar when he felt a hand on his arm. Turning around he saw it was Link who had stopped him.

"Beck, I want to go with the strike team."

Beck was surprised, "You _want_ to go?" Link nodded, "Well, Link," Beck tried not to sound too harsh, "we need our best fighters down there and, well…"

"I know I'm not a good fighter, but…" Link shuffled his feet, "You told me when we left that someday I could come back."

Beck remembered, but he had meant _after_ the Uprising had won the war. He certainly would never have thought that they'd have to blow up Abel's garage in their fight with the Occupation. Now he was stuck in between the right choice and the smart one; he could deny Link and break his promise or send him at risk of having an extra man to slow things down. Beck mulled it over and considered. Link _would_ be surrounded by at least seven other programs at all times for as much as he wanted the mission to succeed, Beck he had made Link a promise and this was the only way to keep it. Crossing his arms and with a heavy sigh Beck said, "Fine. I'll send you with Raven's team," Link's face broke into a small smile, "Just, be careful," Beck added.

"Thanks Beck," Link rushed off the armoury to get suited up, leaving Beck with mixed feelings about what he'd just done. What had Tron said? If he wanted to make a decision, then go ahead and make one, but be prepared to deal with the consequences. His shoulders slumped at the thought, Tron's motivational talks really could use some work.

A trio of Recognizers cruised low over Argon's skyline, heading for the bay area and the disguised repurposing center. Inside the lead ship stood both Dyson and Phobos. Thus far, he was thankful Phobos had remained professional in his company, he didn't know if he could stomach playing smitten anymore than he already was. But it was almost over, the plan was rolling into effect smoothly and Phobos didn't suspect a thing. He had taken the time to butter her up sufficiently before the mission started to make her putty in his hands. When they landed and things got underway, she'd be right where he needed her to be.

"We're approaching the garage now, sir," remarked the pilot from above them.

"Take us down," Dyson ordered and the recognizer began its descent. Upon touchdown he, Phobos, and a battalion of guards exited the ramp. Dyson caught her eye studying the armed escort and guessed her thoughts, "Too much company?" he asked.

"I should say so," her voice tinged with annoyance, "is that, what's his name, the Renegade really such a problem that we need all these extra troops?"

"If only you knew," Dyson thought. He assured her the guards had been assigned by Clu himself to ensure her safety, she was, after all, a guest in their city. They had brought a total of thirty programs for protection, but not just any programs. Dyson knew the battalion that accompanied them consisted of honor guards, the elite of the elite when it came to Clu's fighting force. Additionally, fifty more personal waited just outside the perimeter of the garage in case things got ugly.

Upon entering the garage, Dyson directed Phobos to the nearest reconditioner engine, the heart and soul of the repurposing process. While she was busy running basic diagnostics on it, he took the opportunity to do a visual sweep of the garage. All of the previous mechanical equipment had been cleared out to make room for the large machines necessary for repurposing. Dyson inwardly groaned, the large apparatuses that now filled the space had numerous nooks and crannies, perfect for hiding in.

High above in the rafters, crouched Tron and the several programs who made up his team. They had just set the last of the explosives when Dyson had shown up. Even from his perch a hundred meters up, Tron could tell there was something different about the guards that had accompanied Dyson and Phobos, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Perhaps it was the just the fact there were too many of them. The plan had hinged upon their only being fifteen to twenty guards, not thirty. While thinking, he felt a touch on the shoulder to get his attention. It was Dash and he derezzed his helmet to talk, "We have a problem."

There always seemed to be one, "What did you find?"

"More guards, the entire outside of the building is surrounded by them."

Tron's brow furrowed as he swore under his breath, "It's a trap." He looked back down at the guards below. They had to be honor guards and they were waiting for someone to make an attempt on Phobos's disk. Thinking fast, he knew they had to get a message out to Raven's team to abort the mission. He was about to speak when he realized this might be their one opportunity to get the information they needed. Once the inspection was complete, Tron was sure Phobos would leave and all the valuable information she had with her.

"What do we do?" Dash asked. He and the others of his team looked worried, but ready to fight. Tron paused for a moment. If this was the only shot they had to get her disk, then Raven's team would need an opening, a diversion.

"How many bombs do we have left?" Tron asked.

There was some whispering behind Dash before someone replied, "Three."

That wasn't much. Tron scanned the Occupation forces below, trying to think how to best utilize the charges. His eyes landed on the three Recognizers outside and a smile appeared on his face. He called out to a program in the back, "Jet."

A program with dark green lines and buzz cut, black hair came forward, "Yes, sir?"

Tron gave both Dash and Jet a bomb and took one for himself, "You see those recognizers out there?"

"Yeah."

"Us three are going to rig them with the last of our bombs," Tron motioned to everyone else, "The rest of of you, take your light jets and head to the roof. When you see the bombs detonate, take off. Once you're in the air, start bombarding the ground outside the building, try to keep their reinforcements from using their light jets."

"Where will you guys be?" someone asked.

"We'll be right behind you," Tron replied, "Now let's get a move on!"

Down below them, hidden in the myriad folds of the vast machinery, were Raven, Link and their team. They had intended to jump the inspection party as soon as they entered, but Raven had belayed the order when she had seen that the guards outnumbered them five to one. Since then, she had been trying to rethink their plan, but every option she'd come up with she knew would get most, if not all of them, derezzed.

"Curse the Grid! If there was only a way to get behind them from here." Phobos and the soldiers were standing right in front of one of the large machines so that guards were all facing outward with a wall to their backs.

"There is a way." Raven turned around to see it was Link who had spoken. "When we repaired vehicle's here, sometimes they'd leak energy. We had drains set in the floor to let the energy flow out of the garage."

"So you're saying that there are pipes running underneath this place?" Link nodded, "Are they big enough for someone to fit in?"

"I think so…"

"Link, I need _to know_ so. I can't move our position on a hunch."

"Well they were big enough for me," Link looked embarrassed, "Abel had me clean them out one time."

Any other time, Raven would have laughed, but the gravity of the situation was too intense. "Can you lead us to the pipe's service entrance?" Link said he could and stealthily, the group began to move further back into the garage. Unfortunately, they weren't stealthy enough. Link had a particularly hard time making through a small gap. With a shove, he got through, but the squeeze was so tight it knocked his baton free from his leg. It hit the floor with a single, ringing, clang. Everyone, guards, freedom fighters, Raven, Link, Dyson and Phobos all froze at the sound.

"Finally," Dyson said to himself. With a hand gesture, he signalled the honor guards who noiselessly drew their disks. Half of the guards headed towards the sound while the other half stayed behind to guard Phobos.

"Is that him?" she asked Dyson.

"Likely," she probably meant the Renegade, but Dyson knew it was someone much worse.

Phobos drew her disk which hummed to life with a sickly yellow color, "I'd love to meet him."

The fifteen honor guards who'd gone in search of Raven and her team were getting closer. Neither Link, Raven, or anyone had so much as breathed since the guards started to approach. They were too afraid that the slightest movement would give away their position. The soldiers climbed through and over the equipment, circling in on the source of the sound and incidentally its maker. They were just a few meters away now, Raven could see them through slits in machinery as came nearer. She was just thinking about how fast she could draw her disk when there was a loud explosion. It was followed by two more from outside as everyone turned to see the recognizers outside go up in flames. Raven saw their opportunity and took it, shouting, "On me!"

Together with the rest of their team, they rushed the honor guards. Catching them with unawares and with the tight quarters on their side, Raven and her squad made surprising quick work of Clu's elite soldiers. One or two managed to recover enough to put up a fight, but by that point they were hopelessly outnumbered. With the last honor guard knocked unconscious, Raven did a headcount, everyone was still in one piece and better yet, none seemed to be injured. Although she was relieved, she knew that the remaining guards around Phobos wouldn't be so easy.

Raven turned to Link, "We won this fight, but if we still want Phobos, we're going to need those tunnels."

Link motioned with his hand, "This way!"

"Now!" Tron had shouted. The blast from their three bombs had ripped apart the recognizers sending showers of voxels into the air. Having cast a look inside, Tron had spotted Raven making good use of their diversion. But now their job was done. Tron, Dash, and Jet had popped their light jet batons and had taken to the skies to help the others pepper the ground troops with energy bolts. But just as Tron had rezzed his jet, a blindingly fast orange disk had hit it and broken the code. So while Dash and Jet had taken off, Tron had been grounded, his light jet destroyed.

All of this flashed through Tron's mind as he picked himself up from his failed take off. When he looked up he saw the owner of the disk that had ruined his take off. Dyson, along with two guards, were coming toward him, disks drawn. Taking out his as well, Tron assumed a defensive stance, the cutting edge of his disk humming hungrily.

"Well old friend," Dyson and the guards stopped a few feet away, "I hope you're ready for surrender."

"Gladly," Tron sneered, "I'll accept yours anytime."

Peeved, Dyson ordered the two guards to attack. Tron didn't even blink. He jumped and pulled himself into a tight spiral kick which landed his foot squarely on the leading guards head, the blow sending him straight to the ground, out cold. The second guard was more cautious, making jabs at Tron from a distance to test the older programs reach. What he found out was Tron's reach was quite far. With blinding speed, Tron ricochet his disk off the ground up into the soldier's hand causing him to drop his disk. Without missing a beat, he grabbed the guard's now empty hand and, throwing him over his shoulder, brought him to the ground where he drove his elbow into the other programs face plate. The hit to the head was so hard it broke the honor guard's helmet and rendered him unconscious.

Tron stood up just as a disk came zooming toward him. He barely had time to react before the disk made contact with his arm, only grazing it slightly but enough to be plenty painful. Instinctively, Tron switch his disk to his was his less dominant hand and he looked up to see the attacking disk return to Dyson. "I was counting on you being here."

"The message, I was told it didn't have much encryption on it. You wanted us to get it."

Dyson shrugged, "Guilty." Taking a running start, he lunged at Tron. The Champion of the Grid easily parried the jab, but having only his left hand to use and his other searing with pain, there wasn't much more that he could do than stay on the defensive. Dyson pressed the attack, launching a fury of near misses and close shaves with his former friend, but to no avail. Although Tron's arm was wounded, the rest of him was in perfect condition; he could evade Dyson all cycle if he had to. Dyson quickly realized that out in the open Tron had all the room he needed to outmaneuver him. With a spin kick to Tron's left side, he changed the direction of the fight, beating Tron back toward the waterfront.

Phobos fiddled with her disk. She was boxed in on three sides by honor guards and she was itching to get some action. She could hear the light jets outside raining fire down on what she suspected where Occupation ground troops. How many of these programs were there? Back in the capital, the Uprising in Argon had been dismissed as nothing more than one or two freaks with delusions of grandeur, but this was clearly different. Whoever these people were, they'd already taken out half of her body guards and, with only a handful of pilots, were keeping the rest of their reinforcements suppressed. These people were organized and much better than the Occupation gave them credit for. At the thought, her grip on her disk tightened; organized or not, they weren't going to take her.

As if in response to her thoughts, she heard a quiet noise at her feet. Looking down she saw several small pellets roll out from behind her. Realization hit just as she and the guards were engulfed in a cloud of smoke. She couldn't see anything, but she could her people rezzing their disks which was followed quite closely by the sound of bodies dropping to the floor. In the dim mist, Phobos could see flashes of orange as the honor guards tried to find their ambushers. But then a streak of blue color like lightning appeared and she heard someone grunt. Bolts of green and white lights followed and Phobos knew the fight wasn't going in her favor. Rather than stick it out, she grabbed her bike baton and upon breaking it, shot out of the cloud of smoke and the ensuing ambush.

But she wasn't about to get away scot free. As Phobos escaped the thick vapor, a program rolled out from the fight and hurled her disk after Phobos. The disk sliced the back of her light cycle causing it to veer wildly to the left and careen through the garage's wall. Having sustained too much damage, the bike shrunk back into a batten while still in motion, throwing the disoriented Phobos to the ground.

Rubbing her head, she sat up to see that she was near the waterfront, the simulated sea only a few meters away. What's more, she saw the same program who'd disabled her bike coming toward her. Quickly drawing herself up, she pulled out her disk and studied the approaching program. She sighed in disappointment; it wasn't the Renegade. The Renegade, she knew, wore white and was a male program; this was a woman and she wore a black guard's uniform but with the gridlines blue instead of orange.

"Take it from me, program," Phobos said smugly, "You don't know who I am and you don't want to."

"Oh, but I do."

That was definitely not a response Phobos was expecting. The other program collapsed her helmet revealing a face cloaked with long black hair with streams of blue in it. Phobos's face broke into a smile. "Oh, it's you."

Raven revved her disk, "You can give me your disk now, or I'll take it from you." She was surprised when she got a laugh in response. "Give it up, Phobos, you were never good at combat. You know I'll win."

Phobos crouched into a combat stance, "Come try me."

Confident, Raven closed the distance in six steps and brought her disk down hard on Phobos. But Phobos wasn't there. She had deftly dodged the attack and in the process swept Raven's legs out from under her. Raven was stupefied, her previous commander had never, _never_ done well in a fight, preferring to keep her battles on the mental plane where she could outsmart other programs.

"Surprised?" Phobos ran her finger over her disk sensuously, "I got a little training from Dyson." She saw Raven's dumbfounded expression and smiled, "Oh, you thought you'd wipe the floor with me did you? You were always one to assume, 8433."

"Don't call me that!" Raven sprang to her feet and threw everything she had into a barrage of hits on Phobos. But the Occupation general danced around her attacks, seemingly amused.

"Not call you by your number?" Phobos said in mocking innocence, "But that's what you were, my dear." With a spin kick, she knock Raven's disk out of her hand, "That's what you _are_." Raven threw a punch at her and with more dexterity than she than she thought possible, Phobos managed to twist Raven's arm behind her back. She squirmed to try and get out of her captures hold, but Phobos's grip was like steel. "Do you remember my favorite words, 8433?"

Raven's eyes went wide in recollection. "I won't say them!" She yelled in pain as Phobos twisted her arm further.

"You will!" She twisted again, causing Raven to scream. But no matter how hard Phobos jerked her arm, Raven would not say the words. "I see we're in need of a little reminding." She cast a look at the ocean waves lapping a few meters away, "Why don't we try one of my favorites," she hissed into Raven's ear, "You remember the water, don't you?"

Terror engulfed Raven. She recalled nearly being drowned before and all the fear of those moments flooded her mind as Phobos, despite all the resistance Raven could muster, pushed her captive closer to the swirling black water.

"Yaaaaah!" Link yelled as he body checked a guard. He and the other members of the Uprising had quickly taken out the honor guards except for two who had escaped. They had returned with reinforcements from the troops outside that hadn't been too busy avoiding the flak from Uprising light jets.

Link looked around. So far, the members of Raven's team were holding their own against the two to one odds of the black guards. Most of the Uprising soldiers there had been in Tron's training sessions and although Tron hadn't been an easy teacher, the techniques he'd taught them were proving their worth. Link wasn't a strong fighter, but he was able to dodge and weave around the soldier's attacks easily enough. There was also one big advantage he and the others all had; they were fighting on home turf. They knew Abel's garage in and out like the back of their hands and could easily out make use of their surroundings. Things were going well, Link thought, but he then realized that Raven was missing. A sudden panic struck him as he feared she'd been derezzed, but then he remembered she had gone after Phobos. Through the various limbs and torsos in the fight, Link spied the whole in the wall Raven had chased Phobos through.

"I'm going to find Raven!" Link shouted to his friends as he ducked and rolled out of the brawl they were involved in.

He saw a trail of voxels leading to the waterfront, no doubt left by the light cycle Raven had damaged. But when he looked up from the path of cubes, his heart stopped. He could see Phobos with Raven in some kind of hold, pushing his friend toward the ocean. Link remembered what Raven had told him about when Phobos nearly drowned her. He wasn't sure what it was and didn't even knew he had it in him, but he found himself sprinting toward the pair. He was focused on one thing and one thing only; he had to save Raven.

Another light jet went crashing to the ground in a flaming heap. Dash, Jet and the rest of Tron's team were working overtime to keep the troops below them from rezzing their light jets. Their jobs was getting easier though as most of the fifty black guards that had initially surrounded the garage had fled into Argon, unable to combat the Uprising's air superiority. Jet had spotted several tanks entering the scene from the center of the city and he and three others had dived bombed the group. After several runs, the tanks had finally been destroyed and Jet now surveyed the surrounding area, watching for any other incoming forces. What he saw instead was a lone pair of dueling programs near the shore line. Jet recognized the one in all black as Tron and het could tell he wasn't doing well. The other program had him backed up against the water and was making an effort to break Tron's footing.

"Dash!" he yelled over the wind, "Tron's in trouble!" Following Jet's gaze, he could see he was right.

"On it! Let's give that Occupation piece of work something to worry about!" Dash replied as he and Jet shot downward.

"You never did like to swim." Phobos had pushed Raven to the brink of the water and had forced her to her knees. Putting her weight on Raven's back, she pressed the younger program down to the black water's rippling face. Raven more than ever tried to fight, but the hold Phobos had on her made it impossible to move. The slick, opaque surface got closer and closer and Raven made one final scream before her head was thrust under the waves. Cold water rushed into her mouth and she tried to hold her breath, but in her panicked state, she quickly exhausted her air supply and began to choke. She tried to push up to the surface, but a stiff hand held her head down. Water filled her chest as she ran out of breath and the edges of her vision began to blur and darken. She was about to die; she didn't want to die. Her mind raced through the last few days, her meeting Tron and Beck, defying the Occupation, and her time with Link. His calm face, his friendliness toward her, it was all about to go. As the circle of darkness closed in around her, she thought she saw a flash of white above her.

Suddenly the hand holding her down vanished and Raven instinctively pulled her head up from underwater. Sweet air rushed into her as she coughed up the water she'd swallowed. In her dazed state, she looked around for Tron, sure that it was he who saved her. She did see him, but he was a white speck in the distance and it looked like he was fighting with someone. But if Tron was over there, then who had gotten to Phobos? A hand reached down into her field of vision, and taking it, she was pulled to her feet by none other than Link.

"You ok?" he asked her. In response she more or less collapsed on him in an attempted hug. After a second Link returned it, greatful she was alright.

A moan to their left caught Raven's attention and she turned to see Phobos sprawled out on the ground. Link had shoulder charged her and the resulting collision had been enough to make Phobos dazed. She made to get up but Link jumped on her, using his knee to pin her hand with her disk. "Gotcha!" Link said triumphantly.

His small victory was short lived, as Phobos, upon coming to, easily threw off the inexperienced Link. But as she moved to attack him, she found a disk pressed to her throat. Raven, her hair still dripping wet, gave a satisfied and weary grin to her previous commander. She pressed her disk closer, forcing Phobos to step back to the water's edge. "Now," Raven said in an exhausted yet victorious voice, "give us your disk."

Why wouldn't he just fall? Dyson was growing exasperated at Tron's continuing perseverance as the older program continually dodged and evaded his attempts to push him into the water below where he'd be an easy target. For every jab Dyson made, Tron either blocked or managed to avoid it despite the terrible pain in his arm. But Tron knew he couldn't last forever, sooner or later he'd slip up and Dyson would have the advantage. The moment came sooner than he thought for just as he parried another attack, Dyson swept his legs under Tron, knocking him off his feet.

"You never did give up," Dyson said in a breathless voice. He'd given it his all to just barely edged out Tron. He held his disk over him, ready to deliver the final blow.

Tron's mind raced for what he could do when he espied over Dyson's shoulder two lights, one blue, one green approaching fast. It was Dash and Jet. "They must have seen me in trouble," Tron thought. He looked up at Dyson, "No, I never did give up. That's what friends are for." And with that Dyson brought his disk down, but Tron rolled off the edge of the platform into the water.

"Oh Tron," Dyson took aim at the white suit he could see below the waves, "You always did avoid the inevitable." But before he could throw his disk, he was surrounded by income energy bolts. He dodged out of the way and had just enough time to look upward at his attackers. Dash and Jet had pulled up and were coming around for another pass. "Gridbugs," Dyson swore as he ran. Any second now, he was going to have hot plasma fire on his tail and there was no cover in sight. If he dove into the water, he'd be an easy target and if he tried to get inside the garage, they'd easily cut him off. He reached for the baton strapped to his leg. If he could break it, then he could easily use his light jet to outfly them. Unfortunately, just as he was about to break the baton, Dash and Jet resumed their steady barrage. He couldn't take off while under fire or else they'd shoot him out of the sky.

As he ran down the length of the waterfront, doing his best to avoid the incoming energy bolts, he noticed a trio of programs up ahead. He recognized one of them as Phobos and he immediately realized that she was being threatened to hand over her disk. That meant the other two were with Tron and if he could get close enough, the two light jets on his trail would cease firing in fear they might hit one of their own. He revved his disk, if he could last a little bit longer, he'd be close enough for a take off. Phobos wouldn't escape, though; she'd become a captive of the Uprising and Dyson couldn't allow that.

"Give us the disk-" Raven stopped as Phobos held her disk out over the water. Raven pressed her disk closer to Phobos's throat, "Move again and you'll be nothing but a bunch of cubes."

"Then go ahead and derez me," Phobos said coyly, although Raven could hear a slight tremor in her voice, "when you do, my precious disk will sink to the bottom of the sea."

"You realize without your disk, you're useless," Raven spoke, "in a few cycles any useful information you had will have been lost as without your disk you'll become just another stray." At the word 'stray' there was a visible expression of horror on Phobos's face which gave Raven a twinge of satisfaction; even Phobos was afraid of something.

"Perhaps we can work something out."

"No. Give us the disk and we may let you keep your identity. That, or the water becomes your permanent home."

Phobos struggled to think, trying to come up with some alternative, but after a moment she seemed to resign herself to her fate. She was about to hand her disk over, when an orange light jet roared overhead. Raven and Link watched as it ascended into the dark sky of the Grid. Raven turned back to Phobos just in time to see an orange identity disk come flying along and derezzed their captive. The malicious Occupation general quickly disintegrated into voxels, a stunned expression on her face. Phobos was dead.

Everyone met in front of Abel's garage. Tron was clutching his wounded arm and was soaking wet, but his face bore a rare smile. "Well done everyone. You all made it through in one piece."

"You took quite a hit there," Dash pointed out, looked at the cut on Tron's arm.

"It would have been worse if you two hadn't engaged Dyson."

"Ah gee," Jet replied, "it was nothing."

"You saved my life," Tron's expression softened, "Thank you."

"Alright, let's head home," Raven made to break her jet baton when Tron stopped her.  
"Not yet," he turned to address the rest of the Uprising's programs, "This isn't easy, but it's what we have to do," he motioned to Abel's garage, "this place has been twisted by the Occupation into a tool for oppression. It must go." He stopped and scanned faces of the programs, meeting their eyes, "However, I understand that this was once your home. That in many ways it may always be your home. I don't have the right to do this," Tron held up the detonator to the bombs they had placed inside, "This is yours to leave behind."

Many of the programs turned to look at the garage. No one spoke as time seem to stand still in respect for them, letting them enjoy the last few moments with what had been theirs for so long. Raven could see many of the programs were fighting back tears as they gazed upon the old building.

The silence was broken as Link stepped up to Tron, "I'll do it."

With a solemn expression, Tron handed Link the detonator. The crowd separated before him as he made his way to the front. He stood for a second, the switch in hand, doing nothing but standing before the place where he'd made so many memories. He put his thumb to the switch and hesitated. He felt someone slip their hand into his. He looked to see who it was and saw Raven with a warm smile. She gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. He took a deep breath, "We won't forget you Abel, I promise" He hit the button.

There was a thunder as explosions echoed from within the garage. Pieces of beams and debris crumbled to the floor as the charges went off. The flashes of light illuminated the weary faces of the onlookers as each came to grips with losing what was once their home. As the structure collapsed and burned, someone pulled out their disk and held it up in salute. Others did the same until everyone stood with raised disks in honor of both their lost home, and their fallen friend.

000

Greetings Programs! It took me a while to write this one as there was so much I wanted to pack in here and while not all of it made it in, I'm satisfied by what did. The relationship between Link and Raven is a tricky tightrope to walk. This isn't a romance FanFic and I tried to make their relationship as organic as possible. Phobos was a fun character to create as a sort of demon from Raven's past that she'd have to face, but not without the help of Link who is now her closest friend. I tried to make Link heroic without forsaking his rather timid character trope we're given in the show and I think I got him to a good middle ground here. This episode was as much about Link as it was about raven and having that last scene in here where he's the one to flip the switch is meant to serve as a powerful driving force in his development. This was a long episode and hopefully they won't always be this way, but I hope you enjoyed it and be sure to share, rate and review! TRON LIVES!


	5. Episode 5: In the Face of Adversity

**Greetings programs! I wanted to get this up by Wednesday so it is finished but no fully edited. I'll be making periodical changes to improve grammar, spelling, etc. I just wanted to get it out as soon as I could for you guys. I will delete this message when edits are finished. Anyway, enjoy episode 5 and don't forget to R &R!**

—

Accessing Archived Data…

Zed feels like he's not contributing…

 _Zed was using a sort of crutch to walk as his leg was still far too injured to support his weight. Beck caught up to him, "Zed! How you holding up?"_

" _Fine," was Zed's irritable response._

" _What is it?"_

" _What is it?!" Zed spun around, "I can't do anything!"_

" _Because of your leg?" Beck asked._

" _I can't walk, let alone train with everyone else," Zed nearly shouted, "I'm completely useless!" He slumped against the wall, "I just saw Mara and Raven training in there. She's so good. That's how I want to help you and Tron. But I can't."_

Beck thinks Tron's return will bring on more recruits…

 _A ways away, both Tron and Beck watched Link and Raven talk. It was good to see the new recruit being welcomed in, especially since only a few minutes ago, they would have considered her one of the enemy. "There'll be more like her," Beck remarked, "Once word of you actually being alive gets out, we'll be getting recruits left and right."_

But Tron has his doubts…

 _Tron shook his head, "I doubt it. You've been telling people that for cycles now and this is the first time someone has stepped forward." he crossed his arms, "With Clu here, Dyson is most likely close by and there's little chance he hasn't told Clu I'm alive. The Occupation will crack down even harder on any rumours of Tron."_

While Raven gives Mara a word of advice…

 _Raven proffered a hand which the defeated but not disheartened Mara took, "Always be on your guard. Having served with the Occupation, I know they're bound to pull a fast one on you if you aren't looking."_

—

Another piece of crumbled debris passed by the scanner. Camille sat next to a large detector trying not to nod off. She'd been assigned to fill in for the lack of manpower to do the job. It didn't require more than one person to monitor the scanners, but apparently the programs at the top wanted it done fast so they'd brought in sixty recruits, each to their own station, again, just scanning the wreckage. Technically, there weren't supposed to know what it was wreckage of, but it was fairly obvious by the sheer size and make of the pieces what it was. The Super Recognizer that had crashed near the harbor was taking a long time to clean up, it had taken two dozen cycles for the pile of rubble on the dock to be cleared away and stored where they were. Camille had only been moved from the archive department two days ago to help with the increased workload, but she was already tired of it. They were supposed to be watching the scanners for any indication of functional equipment that had survived the crash. Thus far, out of the three scores of people examining the wreckage, not a single person had found even one working piece of data board. A fact that their supervisor readily blamed them for.

"Get back to work!" he yelled at Camille, who had begun to doze at the controls. She couldn't help it.

"Yes, sir," she sat up in her chair and did her best to look like she was doing something. Her mind began to wander, however, as the monotony of the job ebbed its way back. She thought forward to that night after work, when she, Nox, and Lauren would hit the clubs to relax. They had a particular favorite, a small place not too far from the waterfront. It was small, but it was always packed with programs looking to take the edge off from a long day under the Occupation's grind. It was run by a rather eccentric program named Quix, although he'd hinted that that wasn't his real name. The time they spent there was more important than ever now as the Renegade and his cohorts had become an increasing threat. Or so she was told. Personally, she'd never met the guy or any of his "goons" as Nox put it. He always took any opportunity to slander anyone who rebelled against Clu, even in just the small things. Although he was just a sentry, he had the zeal of an Occupation general. Sometimes, he'd go off on a rant about how glorious Clu's ultimate idea of perfection would be once realized, about how they'd all become perfect. Camille would smile and nod patiently, but Lauren would just roll her eyes behind Nox's back. Not everyone was so keen on the grand ideal of "perfection" as they let on.

All three of them had been transferred from Gallium upon Clu's arrival and the transition had been rough on them all. The the easy day-to-day life they were used to in the distant city paled in comparison to the rush of work in Argon, and the increased stress got under their skin. For Camille, she'd been transferred to the deceased disk archive vault. Her job entailed sifting through the memories of the dead program's disks for anything of value. If it passed a set of checks to determine its worth, it was stored in the vault for latter use. If it failed, it was destroyed by means of an enormous press that would crush the disk into fine dust. Camille didn't like it, it felt like killing people the way she'd get to know them by their memories only to have to determine whether their disks were fit to live on.

Lauren also felt guilty in her new position. She had been a blackguard in Gallium, but out there most programs, Occupation and civilian alike, simply went with the flow of things. The military had little intervention with the lives of everyday people and Lauren had never had to exert any type of brute force to make people comply. A stern warning and, if things got serious, a drawn disk were usually sufficient to quell trouble makers. Here in Argon, though, she'd already had to imprison dozens of programs for breaking curfew and had even been ordered to derez a few that had resisted arrest. Sometimes when they were sitting in the booth at the club, Camille would catch Lauren's eyes drifting off into space and when she asked her about it, Lauren simply said she could see _their_ faces. After that, Camille didn't ask anymore.

It wasn't the same for Nox. He had tried to get into the blackguard program but didn't make the cut. That said, he was the most dedicated sentry that either Camille or Lauren had ever seen. The guy would volunteer to stay out on extra shifts, guarding the barracks or the flagship's hanger. He'd also opt to do any job for the Occupation, no matter how grungy it was. Clean energy pipes, he'd do it; scrub the underside of the tanks, he'd do it; mop up derezzed programs, he'd do it. And it didn't stop when they went to the club, either. He would go on and on about how Tesler was making Argon into a better place, how he was expunging all the imperfection from its streets, getting rid of all the errors and mistakes in people. But for all his enthusiasm, Camille sometimes couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to convince Lauren, her, or himself.

She caught herself dazing again just in time to avoid another rebuke from her supervisor. He walked by and she shot a quick glare at his back, the man was insufferable the way he beat their noses to the grindstone. Camille might have been able to dismiss it if there was actual work. But the reality was that most of the programs had nothing more productive to do other than stare with glazed eyes at their monitors as the pieces of wreckage floated in and out of their scanners. So naturally she was surprised when an indicator light came up on her screen. Her previous boredom forgotten, she eagerly opened the scan report and quickly read its contents. It went on about how a piece of a processor was still intact and asked her if she wanted to open it. Clicking yes, her station brought up a diagnostic test that showed her what was on the piece of hardware. Camille wasn't a technician so the technical jargon and terminology was tricky to understand, but she it seemed to be a troubleshooting report for a failed attempt at a repurposing of all things. Browsing further, she discovered the reason for the failure was a physical interruption, the code emitter had broken. That or the repurposing chamber had ruptured. She pushed forward, digging deeper into the text with gusto, this was the only interesting thing to happen at this job and she was going to make the most of it. Page after page of data scrolled by as she combed the diagnostic results, but she halted at the sight of one name that jumped off the screen. TRON. "They tried to repurpose Tron?" But Tron was dead, wasn't he?

Her thoughts were cut short, however, "What do you have there?" Her supervisor pushed her aside to see the screen. His eyes widened as he too say the singular name. Quickly, he pressed a button and copied the report onto a data cube. He then abruptly turned off her scanner.

"Hey, what are you-"

"Quiet!" her supervisor cut her off, "You didn't see anything, take the rest of the day off." He briskly walked off, data cube in hand, leaving Camille confused and not a little flustered. But more than anything she was curious, why had Tron's name been on that processor? Her mind was fixed on the question as she left her station only to be pulled away as she saw movement overhead. She looked up just in time to see a program clad in white duck out of sight. The Renegade. Or was it Tron? She stood staring at the spot on the ceilling he had been seconds ago as her mind raced with possibilities. Could the Renegade really be Tron? Was Tron still alive? One thing she was sure of, what they were being told about former Champion of the Grid, wasn't the whole picture.

—

TRON Uprising:

In the Face of Adversity

—

Zed leaned on the door frame to the training wing. He had been there a while watching several programs run through the practice drills, although, if he was completely honest, he had mostly watched one person in particular. He followed Mara's graceful movements as she dexterously dodged and weaved around the other combatants. She looked so pretty like that, her green hair sprayed into the air every time she moved.

"Enjoying the view?" Zed fell over as the voice came from right behind him.

He tried to save face by regaining his footing again with limited success because of his injured leg. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," he protested as he used the wall to support himself. He looked up to see it was Raven.

She smiled and put up her hands, "Of course you don't. You're obviously not here to spy on the girl you like."

"Oh great," Zed rubbed his face in annoyance, the last thing he wanted was gossip about him going around the base. "You can tell that easily?"

"No, not really. Aside from you staring at her just now, you do a pretty good job."

"Then how'd you know?"

"I didn't," she crossed her arms in a self satisfied manner, "you just confirmed it."

Zed rolled his eyes, "So why are you here?"

"To meet Link, I'm giving him some extra training lessons."

Zed smirked, "You two sure are spending an awful lot of time together," he winked.

Instead of blushing, Raven smiled, "We are. He can really use the extra training." They both turned back to watch the trainees on the combat floor. They looked just in time to see Link flipped by another program and land hard on the floor.

"Yeah, he could," Zed had to agree; whether Raven had feelings for Link or not, the guy really could use some help with his fighting skills.

They watched for a minute before Raven asked, "So how's your leg, you good to get out there with the rest of us?" She'd meant to tease him, but evidently struck a nerve.

"No!" Zed replied, "I'm not! You see this?" He waved his crutch in front of her, "I'm still stuck here with _this_ all cycle. I can't even throw a decent punch without falling over!"

"I could take a look at it for you," she offered, she could see this was clearly important to him, "I do have training for battlefield injuries."

"Don't bother," Zed moodily replied, "Tron already tried using his old healing tank on me, but my leg is too far gone for even that. Unless someone with medical programming joins the team, I'm not going anywhere."

Raven empathized with him, it couldn't be easy feeling powerless when people counted on you. She cast a glance between Mara and Zed and she felt a measure of understanding. He didn't just come to the training floor to admire Mara's looks. He must feel tremendous envy for her in how she could serve the Uprising, how she could fight on her own two feet, doing everything she could for the cause while Zed felt he could nothing. His sense of worthlessness probably wasn't helped by the fact he probably felt ashamed in front of her because of her great skill and his seeming lack thereof.

She tried changing the subject, "So how's vehicle training going?"

That cheered him up, "Great, actually. There are still a few people that are a little shaky at the controls of some of the more difficult vehicles."

Raven couldn't help a smile, "People like Link, you mean?"

Zed put his hands up in mock defence, "Hey, you said it, I didn't." They both laughed for a second until a figure came sprinting down the hallway. It was Beck clad in his Tron white and he blew right past them and ran up the stairs to observation deck. "When did he get back?" Zed turned to Raven, "I thought he was on recon for another microcycle."

"I thought so too," she looked back onto the training floor as the other programs finished up their combat drills. "Maybe he saw something."

Meanwhile, Beck was taking the steps two at a time. Tron had been standing near the observatory window when he heard the doors slide open admitting an out-of-breath Beck. Setting down his data pad, Tron came over, "What happened? You aren't due back for some time."

"I figured it out," Tron gave him a raised eyebrow, "the next repurposing center, it'll be in Purgos and I how to take it out."

Tron looked skeptical, "Repurposers are tricky to build, the Occupation has received any materials to build a new one since we destroyed the garage."

"But they _already_ have those materials."

The older program caught on, "The Super Recognizer."

"It'd be easier to repair it than build a new one from scratch."

"So you know where it is in Purgos?"

"Not exactly. The thing is, the parts for the repurposer carrying get split up in trucks once they arrive. I've tried following the trucks when a new recognizer lands, but they always go to a different location than the last time."

Tron rubbed his chin in thought, "Clu's wasted no time making things harder for us."

"How efficient," Beck remarked sarcastically, "But I think we can still make it work. Seeing as I couldn't figure out where the center was in Purgos, I hid aboard one of the recognizers that bring the parts. Clu got smart to that too as I managed to stay unnoticed until the ship was about to land. They scan it for any extra personal before letting it touchdown."

Tron gave him a look, "And if they find someone?"

Beck's face fell, "They blow it out of the sky." He met Tron's eyes, "They did to the ship right before mine. It was probably a refugee from Purgos trying to escape."

"So you got off the ship," was Tron's stoic response, "and then what?"

Beck sighed, "I could tell the recognizer landed around a set of warehouses. The only problem is it makes stops at several of them so no one knows from which one it gets the parts." He recalled the exhausting, long cycles he'd spent scoping out each of the buildings, narrowing it down to which one actually held the Super Recognizer wreckage. "It took me a while, but I figured out which of the warehouses they have all the parts in."

Tron started pacing, "We'll need to put a team together, small enough to get in, get done, and get out without being noticed," he stroked his chin in thought, "I'll start putting together a roster of candidates, we'll go over it together once I'm finished." He noticed just how tired Beck looked, "In the meantime, get some rest. You'll need it."

"Thanks," Beck walked to the door before Tron spoke again.

"And Beck…" the young program turned to his mentor, "nice work." The Renegade gave a faint smile in reply. He walked to his quarters where he satisfactorily collapsed onto his bed and instantly fell asleep.

Camille leaned against the side of the club waiting. She was next to the club's entrance, a single door from which issued the bright streams of colorful light and pumping music indicative of the atmosphere within. Having the day off early had seemed like a good thing at the time until she realized how little there was to do without Nox and Lauren around. Leave time was just a few micros away and Camille was eager to see her two friends not only for the usual fun they all had, but to tell them about what she'd seen at work.

"About time you go here," she protested upon seeing Lauren come into view.

"Couldn't help it," the she replied. Her face a simple sharp angle and her hair braided into corn rows running the length of her head. "there was an absolute mess at the flag ship today."

Camille motioned to the door, "Tell me about it inside. Nox is bound to show up any minute."

The two girls took were greeted by the host upon entering, "Greetings programs," She was a white haired siren who had been there for as long as they'd come to the club. Wordlessly she motioned to their usual seat and gave them a slight nod. Camille, Nox, and Lauren had been such frequent regulars that the club's owner had given them their own reserved booth. The siren escorted them to their seats before saying, "someone will be out with your drinks shortly," she cocked her head, however, noticing something, "Will it be three drinks, or just two?"

"Our friend is coming," Camille replied, "He's just running late."

"I understand."

"Thanks Gem," Camille replied.

As soon as the white haired program was out of earshot, Lauren leaned in, "Today on the flag ship, everybody was up in arms about a disk that was stolen."

"Stolen?" Camille raised an eyebrow.

Lauren nodded, "Apparently the thing had been stolen a while ago and it was kept under wraps until today. The technician who discovered that the disk was missing, accidentally let it slip and then the whole ship knew." She edged even closer to Camille, "But the craziest part is that it wasn't just any disk that was stolen, but one from the vault."

"Really!?" Camille was shocked. The vault, the one she in fact used to work at, was one of the most highly secure areas on the ship for the simple reason it held the disks of every past soldier of the Occupation. If someone got their hands on even one of those disks, the Occupation's security could be seriously compromised, "Did anyone try to steal some information or hack one of the terminals?"

Lauren shook her head, "Thankfully, no. The disk stolen wasn't actually from a military officer. It was someone, named, eh, Keller I think."

"Who's Keller?"

Her friend leaned back in her seat, "Don't know. The most I could find out was she was some sort of scientist."

"Weird," Camille mindlessly drummed her fingers on the table in time with the music when she heard a familiar voice.

"There you guys are!" Nox called over from across the dance floor. He muscled his way past the programs moving to the groove and sunk into a seat next to Lauren. "Man I'm tired."

"Another volunteer shift?" Lauren sarcastically asked. Nox didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, I've been marching around Argon all day, we-" the waitress came over and set their drinks down. Nox stopped mid sentence, swiped the drink off the table and downed it in one gulp, "-Ah." He look to the stunned waitress and asked, "May I have another?" She nodded and took his empty glass. "Anyway," he resumed, "where was I? Oh yeah, so Tesler's been having us search Argon for cycles now looking for this program named Ram, or something."

"Who is he?" Camille asked.

"An enemy of the state, of course," Nox replied automatically which garnered an eyeroll from Lauren.

"I mean, what did he do?"

"I can't tell you," Nox replied staunchly.

"Oh come off it with the whole 'it's classified thing,'" Lauren interjected, "It gets really annoying sometimes."

"No seriously, I can't tell you. I don't know."

"Oh," Lauren replied a little flustered, "well, that's different."

"But whatever he did must have been big. Ever search order I've seen today was signed by Clu himself."

"It was big," all three friends turned in their seats to the program who spoke. It was Quix, the clubs owner who was sitting across from them in another booth. He sat with his feet propped up on the table, his right hand running through his white mullet hair, and his left hand absentmindedly twirling a glass cane. "If you count being from the Old System 'big.'"

"But what would Clu want with someone from the Old System?" Camille asked.

"I'm afraid, my dear, that I don't know. And believe me, when _I_ don't know, that's saying something."

Camille settled back into her seat, "This has been one crazy day."

"I'll say," Quix casually replied, "Only today I've started considered closing this place and moving to the capital."

"No, you can't Quix!" Lauren interjected.

The clubs owned tsked, "It's no good here. What with all those rebels and Tron running about."

"Tron's dead," Nox quickly corrected.

Quix sat up in his seat and met Nox's eyes, "Is he?" His gaze slowly slid from Nox to Camille. "I'm sure what your friend here has to say will illuminate that particular point."

Camille's eyes widened, her mind jumping back to earlier that day, "How do you know about that?"

Quix had a positively mischievous smile, "That's what I do. I learn things and I use them. That's how I mind all the angles, all the perspectives you see." He then suddenly stood up and yelled, "Your attention programs!" Everyone stopped and stared at him, even the DJs paused the music to see what was going on. The club's attention in hand, he shouted, "Drinks all around!" People shouted and clapped in agreement before going back to their conversations. The music started up and he gave Camille a wink before sauntering away.

Nox got Camille's attention, "What did he mean by that?"

She looked over her shoulder before answering rather hesitantly, "When I was at work, I came across a failed repurposing report with Tron's name on it."

"That could mean anything," Nox said dismissively.

But Lauren wasn't going to let him get off so easily, "Really? Like what?"

"Well," Nox thought for a second, "Maybe they have his disk and were using it to test the repurposer."

Lauren gave him a look, "That's stupid."

"So is Tron being alive."

"Is it though?" Camille interjected. Her two friends looked at her. "Think about it. The parts I've been looking at came from the monster Recognizer that crashed at the docks. That means that Clu built a mobile repurposer to come _to_ Argon for some reason. Maybe it was a trap for Tron. If anything it sure would explain things a lot better than they were simply testing it on his leftover disk."

"You know what I think?" Nox replied, "Maybe you read the report wrong. I'm willing to bet it wasn't even Tron's name you saw there at all."

"Fine. But I can prove it," she stood up, "Come on, there's time before curfew. I can show you guys the same report I saw and you'll know I'm telling the truth."

Nox crossed his arms, "We'll see."

"I'm here to see Clu," the supervisor said to the guard.

"You are not authorized."

"Look, it's important, I've found vital information that he _needs_ to hear," technically speaking he wasn't the actual one to find the info, but he wasn't about to let someone else take the credit for the find either.

"You do not have an appointment," the guard was impassive.

"I know that, but this is-" just then another person came out the door he was trying to get into. It was Dyson and the supervisor immediately saluted him. "Sir."

Dyson looked between the guard and the supervisor, "What's going on here?"

"Sir, I've discovered important information that Ruler Clu must see."

Dyson looked skeptical, "May is see this _information_?"

"Yes sir," he handed the datapad with the recovered repurposing report over to the commander. Dyson scanned the document with a blasé expression and then cast a glance back into the room he'd just come out of.

With a sigh he said, "Leave us," the guards silently walked down the hall and out of sight. The supervisor was confused, but quickly reassured himself that Dyson must have something important to say to him.

"Program, do you know what this says?" Dyson asked.

"It seems to suggest that…" he didn't really want to say it.

"Go on."

"Well, sir, it seems to suggest that Tron is alive."

"It does, doesn't it?" Dyson looked back to the datapad, "Did you discover this information?"

With no small pride the supervisor replied, "I did indeed, sir."

"And has anyone one else see it?"

"No, sir, again I alone was the one to discover it."

Dyson gave a sigh of relief, "Well that's one less thing to worry about."

"Worry about, sir?"

"If a lot of programs knew this, let's just say there would be a big problem," he handed the datapad back to the supervisor, "as it is, we only have a small problem."

The supervisor gave him a raised eyebrow, "And what's that?"

"Not a what" Dyson corrected, " a whom." Comprehension suddenly dawned on the supervisor's face. He dropped the datapad and tried to draw his disk, but Dyson was faster. He whipped the cutting edge through the supervisor's arm, eliciting a cry of pain from the program. The cry was abruptly silenced as Dyson then quickly beheaded him, causing the rest of the man to dissolve into cubes. Bending over, Dyson brush the voxels off the datapad as he picked it up. "Like I said, only a small problem." He was about to slice the datapad in half, when his eye caught a detail in the report. As he read, a grin slowly grew on his face. If the report was true, then Tron wasn't as untouchable as they'd thought.

"You look terrible."

"Thanks Zed," Beck replied shortly after yawing. He felt like he'd only slept for a few minutes before Tron came and got him. When asked, Tron had told him it had been nearly three hours since they last spoke and Beck felt his slight reprieve evaporate. Still, Tron had woken him up for a reason; they had their candidates for the mission.

He and Tron walked into the room that looked out onto the training floor and Beck sized up their candidates. There were six in all and most of them had been on the last mission to the garage with the one exception being Mara who had never been in the field. "You sure you want to send her in?" he asked Tron.

"I don't know," the older program crossed his arms, "that's why you're here, to help me decide." Beck took another look at the line up. Jet and Dash had flown their light jets in combat before so they had the experience. The others had been in the brawl inside the garage last mission so they knew what they were in for if things got ugly. He kept coming back to his friend, was he simply worried about her? "If you have doubts, Beck, tell me," Tron said. He remembered back when Mara, Moog and Rasque had all helped him steal a data cube. Mara had done great on their little mission, but when they had to rescue the two trouble makers, Beck had seen Rasque's partially derezzed hand. He had never get over the image of that same thing happening to his close friend. But she had seen it too and she was still here, volunteering to help the Uprising. Beck looked out onto the training floor again, inwardly debating.

"No, this is a good team," he turned to Tron, "I think we're set."

"I agree, I'll brief them on the plan, then we'll head out."

Beck gave him a surprised look, "'We?'"

"You're in no fit state to go anywhere, Beck," he put a hand on his shoulder, "Rest up, we'll need you again before long."

With a eary smile, Beck left to go back to his room. He was caught in the door however by Zed. "Heard there was a mission?"

"Yeah," Was all Beck said, his eyelids already starting to droop again, "Talk to Tron about it."

"I want to go on the mission," Zed replied, "And I ask you, because if I ask him, he'll…"

"He'll say no?" Beck finished his thought. "Why do you want to go? Is it Mara?"  
"No, well kind of," Zed shuffled his feet, leaning on his crutch, "I mean, I worry about her and everything…"

"Zed if it's just to spend time with her-"

"That's not it!" Zed nearly shouted. He calmed down a bit, "Ok, it might be that a _little_ bit, but I'm also just so tired of sitting around here all day."

"You do your training thing," Beck offered helpfully.

"That's not the same as a real mission, though," Zed argued, "I want to _do something_. I need to prove that I can actually be a part of this whole thing."

"Nobody thinks that, Zed, you are doing as much as you can to help the Uprising."

Zed met his eyes, "But what I _can_ do isn't enough. If not to prove it to everyone else, I need to prove it to myself."

Beck held his gaze for a long moment before answering. "Alright."

Zed smiled, "Thanks Beck." He went into the training room and stood in line with the other programs just as Tron wrapped up the briefing.

Mara came over to him, "Are you going with us?"

"I sure am."

"Not without my say so," Tron interrupted, "I'm sorry Zed, with your leg you're not eligible to come."

"I don't have to fight,' Zed said defensively, "The place might have a bunch of guards, or what if recognizers land with reinforcements outside? I can be a lookout for you guys."

Tron's brow wrinkled in thought for a long moment, "Alright. Take an echo flare from the armoury. If you see anything, light it to signal us."

"Yes sir." Zed replied with heightened respect. Tron merely nodded and went to the hanger.

"Are you sure you want to go?" Mara asked from behind him. "It could be dangerous."

"I live for danger," Zed replied with gusto. Mara just laughed and rolled her eyes.

—

"Gird bugs," Camille swore. The door to the warehouse was locked with a security clearance key. "It won't open."

"Bummer," was Nox's salty reply and began to walk away.

He was stopped by Lauren's voice, "Let me take a crack at it," he looked back to see her hold her disk up to a scanner. After a moment, the system's monitor flashed green.

"Rank 4: Lauren. Disk key accepted," and the door slid open.

She ducked her disk and caught Nox staring, "Perks of being a blackguard," she grinned smugly. They all went inside only to find that the lights were out. Using the fint glow from their disks, the three friends managed to navigate the maze of scanning stations and terminals to Camille's desk. She booted up the machine and searched the archived files for the one she'd seen earlier.

"What gives?" she angrily whispered.

"Problem?" Nox asked.

"The report, it's not here," she double checked the system, "someone must have deleted it."

Nox folded his arms, "How convenient."

"It _was_ here."

"I'm sure."

"Fine," Camille pushed a button and the machine started scanning, "If the file isn't on here any more, I'll just scan it again. It'll come up." she added hopefully. Nox just made a humph. The the scanning beams light seemed unusually bright in the dark confines of the vaulted space they were in as it cast sharp, moving silhouettes of their figures into the void. The faint whirr of the terminals processors were all the noise they heard. Even as quiet as they were, they reverberated into the dark, coming back as faint whispers from the unseen rest of the space. Camille felt an eerie chill dance over her skin, she knew it was just them, but the place had been garnering a creepy vibe ever since they entered. She didn't realize how on edge she was until the click of the scanner finishing nearly made her jump. Shaking off the feeling, she looked at the report results.

"But...how?" she stammered.

"Not what you thought it was, eh?" Nox didn't even bother to whisper.

"Keep your voice down," Lauren scolded him.

"Why? There's nobody here."

Lauren rolled her eyes, but caught Camille's stunned expression, "What is it?" she asked in hushed voice.

"The data, it's-it's not here."

"I told you," Nox replied, self-satisfied.

"No, it's more than that," she squinted at the data readout, "this isn't even real information, it's gibberish."

"Well it is from a crashed ship," Lauren added, "it's not exactly going to be pristine."

"No, if it was from the crash, the code would be broken," she gestured at the screen, "not garbled like this."

"What's the difference?" Nox interjected, "point is there's nothing here to say that Tron is-"

"Shhh!" Lauren hissed at him.

"What? Tron's dead and that's-" he didn't finish as Lauren put a hand over his mouth and motioned for silence. She placed and hand on her chest then pointed to the ceiling high overhead. Someone was up there.

Comprehension settling on the other two friends, Lauren noiselessly drew her disk and pointed her palm to the floor signalling to stay low. Camille and Nox ducked behind cover, Nox drawing his disk and Camille doing her best to appear invisible. Meanwhile, Lauren scanned the support braces high above them, looking for movement. There it was again, a faint light bobbing in the inky blackness. Whoever it was had their gridlines switched off and Lauren's mind immediately jumped to the Renegade and his followers. On previous encounters with the insurgency, Occupation soldiers had noticed the grid lines switched off on the enemy programs, again for stealth. They were advised to question and even arrest, out of suspicion, any program caught with their lights off.

Lauren pulled her arm back, preparing to throw her disk. The cutting edge wasn't on as she didn't want to derez him, but knock him off his perch. Nox followed her eyes and got into a ready stance. Camille saw the program as well and pulled further behind her cover. Her friend strained her eyes trying to get a clear view of the program. She lined up her disk with the intruder and sighted down her arm with a keen eye. Then she threw it.

The disk made impact and the rebel program dropped like a stone from the rafters. Zed could see three programs below him, but none of them moved to catch his fall and he hit the ground at full speed, knocking him out cold.

—

Tron moved his arm in circle above his head signally his team to finish up. It had been Mara's idea to use the mechanics wrenches to scrabble to code of all the Super Recognizer debris. If the source code was unstable or for that matter just gibberish, any attempt to reassemble the repurposer would utterly fail; the thing would simply fall to pieces since there was no cohesive base code for which all the parts to connect with. The last of the Uprisings members stowed their wrenches and Tron looked on with a brief gaze of satisfaction. As far as he could tell, they'd managed to corrupt three fourths of the wreckage in the warehouse. No one was going to be using these for a long time.

Tron scaled a pile of scaps that reached almost all the way to the ceiling and from there he jump up through the hole in the roof they'd used to gain entrance. Leaning over it, he lent a hand to his team members as he pulled them up onto the roof. He did a head count and they were set. Still without saying a word, he put two fingers up into the air and leveled them against the horizon. The programs took the cue and rezzed their light jets, shooting past him into the dim sky. Tron followed in the rear and the group began climbing altitude to stay out of sight. Once high enough, Tron collapsed his helmet and let out a pent up breath he didn't know he was holding. He trusted Beck's opinion, but he had still been unsure about these new recruits and their abilities. True, they'd done admirably when they took the garage, but perhaps they were lucky. Now, however, they had experience and that was something he could trust. Suddenly, he heard the loud roar of a recognizer and he put up his faceplate instinctively. Relaxing when he realized it was below him, he retracted his helmet again and cast a look over his shoulder. The recognizer was landing near the warehouse they were just at. "Perfect timing," Tron said to himself.

The team reached peak altitude and began gliding swiftly towards home. The mission had been nearly flawless, Tron thought. Not bad for a batch of rookies. He was distracted when Mara broke formation and dropped back next to him.

"Problem?" Tron shouted over the rush of wind.

"I think we're one short," Mara yelled back, "Zed's not with us."

Tron thought for a second. There team consisted of six people. He and Beck had picked six people. He quickly counted the number of programs flying with him and, yes, it was still six. "Are you sure?" Tron shouted back.

"Yeah," even for how loud her voice was for him to her, he could tell she was worried. He reflected on the situation. Zed had to be with them, they only had six. Beck and he had only picked six people for the assignment.

But they hadn't picked Zed.

Tron grimaced with the realization of his mistake, "Everyone fall in!" he yelled. The other five programs fell into a distinctive "V" shape.

"What?" Mara asked hesitantly.

Tron gave her look that said it all, "We left a man behind." Then to everyone else, "ON ME!" Tron whipped his light jet around a perfect one-eighty and rocketed down towards the warehouse. The recognizer they'd passed had nearly touched down. The the muscles of the Champion of the Grid tensed, Zed might have been captured or worse by the time they got there. They were in for a fight.

—

Zed woke up the hum of an identity disk. When he opened his eyes to see it an inch from his face, his jerked backwards only to find he'd been handcuffed to a piece of rubble. "You're an idiot, Lauren," and angry male voice said.

"We don't need to kill him," a female voice replied, "I've read his disk, he can give us information."

"But that's just it, we have his disk," the other voice replied, "he doesn't need to be alive for us to use that." The two went back and forth and Zed's vision focused in on the program holding the disk to his throat. She had her hair tied into a neat bun with single stripe of pink running through it. His gaze moved from her face to her hand holding the disk. It was shaking quite badly and Zed was afraid she might accidentally cut him.

"Can you move that further away?" Zed asked, half humorously.

"Oh," she seemed to just realize he was conscious, "Sorry," she pulled the disk back a little.

"Thanks," Zed gaged his surroundings as the argueing of the other two programs continued. He was still in the warehouse as far as he could tell, only now the lights were on. Also, there were no other soldiers or programs around, just him and these three people. The one holding the disk to him looked like a technician or an archiver of some sort. Of the other two, the other girl was in blackguard uniform, the other, the man, had the stocky build of a sentry. He turned back to see the first female program with her eyes fixed on him. She seemed to be studying his appearance. "Not what you expected?" he asked her.

Before she could answer, the male program shouted, "He's awake!" The guy drew his disk and came straight at him, but the other female program caught his arm.

"This isn't right," she protested.

"So is letting this maniac live!" the other vehemently replied.

"Maniac?!" all three programs turned to Zed. "You think _I'm_ the maniac here?"

"You cause nothing but chaos and destruction," the man spat at Zed.

"Real cute, did you get that from a propaganda poster?" Zed replied sarcastically. To his surprise, the man blushed and Zed thought he just might have stolen it from a Occupation placard. "Look, I'm not the bad guy here."

"So we are?" the female black guard asked skeptically, "Unlikely."

"As unlikely as Tron being alive?" that got their attention.

"He's dead," the man rejoined.

"Check my disk," Zed said simply. The three huddled around his memories as they scrolled back through the events of the day. Their eyes widened as they came to the conversation he'd had with Tron about coming on the mission.

"He is alive," the pink haired program gasped.

"No," the man was red in the face, "It's a trick," he pointed his finger and Zed, "your kind are trying to ruin our lives."

"Do you really believe that?" Zed asked simply, "Do you really believe all this is really making your lives better? All the armed guards everywhere, not being free to speak your mind, make what you want? To do the things you were made for without fear of being derezzed for a slight mistake?" There was flicker of doubt on their faces.

"He has a point, Nox," the pink haired program said.

"Perfection keeps us safe," the program named Nox retorted.

"It doesn't," Zed replied bitterly.

Nox stalked over to him and put his face an inch from Zed's, "What would you know? The Occupation took from me home, my life," he was almost teary-eyed, "If that wasn't for my own good, then for what then, huh?" He stood up, "Rule of perfection is for the good of us all."

"Not for the people I care about," Zed replied. Slowly and painfully, despite his injured leg, he rose to meet Nox's eyes, "You know the first thing you people did when you came to Argon?" Images of Bodhi dying fueled his speech, "Burry a staff in his chest." Zed went on, "You people brought the games to my home, do you know how many people I know who have never come back from them?" Nox held his gaze, "Do _you_ know what that's like?" Zed looked square into Camille's face, "To have to watch someone you care about get derezzed right in front of you To watch your friend die?" His expression was fixed with resolve, "Well I chose not to stand by and let it happen any more."

"You're perverting the system," Nox's voice faltered.

Zed leaned in as close as his handcuffs would let him, "Then tell me, if someone hurt your friends, would you do any different to protect them?" There was silence for an answer. The faces of the three friends were mixed. Zed collapsed back onto the floor feeling emotionally exhausted. That had taken a lot out of him and it didn't help realizing he probably hadn't made any difference.

He was wrong, however. His arms went slack as someone undid his handcuffs. "Camille, what are you doing?" the other female program asked.

"He's right, Lauren" Camille helped Zed to his feet, "we've had this thing all wrong from the start. If Tron's alive, then _he's_ the side we need to be on."

Lauren bit her lip, deliberating, "Alright," she decided, "I hope your right and Tron _is_ alive."

"Oh he's alive alright," Zed chimed in, "If you help me up, I can introduce you to him."

"You're not going anywhere," the three turned to Nox who had his disk drawn in an unsteady hand, "I can't let this happen."

"But you won't hurt your friends," Zed replied as he hobbled off followed by Camille and Lauren, leaving Nox to himself and his tormented thoughts.

The three programs didn't get far before the large warehouse doors opened admitting a score of sentries into the building. Zed, Camille and Lauren ducked behind cover as the columns of troops walked past them. Zed poked his head out to see past the door to a recognizer waiting outside. "Do either of you have light jets?"

Lauren pulled a batton off her leg, "Always come prepared."

Zed gestured to Camille, "You'll ride with me, alright?"

She looked nervous, "Um ok."

Zed smiled, "You're doing the right thing."

"Halt program!" Zed looked around in shock. They had become completely surrounded. "Identify," demanded the nearest sentry. Camille stood behind Lauren who had drawn her disk. Zed had drawn his as well although he knew with his leg it wouldn't do much good. "Stand down or you will be derezzed," the sentry said again as the ring of Occupation soldiers closed in.

"Is it always like this?" Lauren exasperatedly asked Zed.

"Yeah, pretty much," The three were standing back to pack against the soldiers.

"How do you make it out of it?"

Zed heard a noise overhead and looking up, smiled, "I have a little help."

Tron and the other members of the team dropped onto the sentries surrounding the three programs. Zed did his best to dodge and duck out of the fight, but he had to double back as Camille and Lauren weren't moving. The stood in something akin to awe as they watched Tron spin through the air, deftly dealing with five opponents at once. His white suit shown brightly as he cleared a path to the warehouse doors. They snapped out of it when Zed yanked on their arms, "Come on!"

—

Nox sat with his head in his hands. How could they leave him like that and for the enemy of all things? He knew he couldn't let the rebel go, but he couldn't bring himself to hurt Camille or Lauren. What kind of side was he on that mandated he kill his friends? The sound of clashing disks and scuffling feet drew his attention. He got up and looking over the mounds of wreckage he could see Occupation soldiers surrounding a smaller group of fighters. The smaller group, a mish-mash of different colored programs, were making a push towards the doors. It looked to be like they were winning, the program at the front was driving apart the oncoming troops with easy. Unfortunately, as Nox watched, the group got split in two, the lead program and a few others were still pushing forward, but the second group had gotten bogged down by orange sentries and were having a tough time fending them off. They weren't going to make it.

What should he do? His sense of duty demanded he help contain the intruders. But some of those programs were his friends. If they were caught, they'd be sent to the games or simply killed and he'd be directly responsible. He would have sent them to their deaths; _he_ would have killed them. But it was wrong! These programs had resurrected the idea of dead program, Tron, in order to justify their terror on the Grid. How could he condone that? He couldn't!

His inner debate manifested in the brawl taking place before him. The smaller group fighting hard, but loosing all the same. The bright uniforms of the Occupation threatened to crush them with sheer numbers as the bore down on the members of the Uprising. Then there was a change. The part of the smaller group, the one closest to the doors, turned around and began fighting their way back towards their comrades and Nox could see their leader plowing the way. He caught of glimpse of him as the program lept out of the crowd. His helmet was down revealing a strong face with set eyes and an expression of pure drive. His suit was pearl white and was in stark contrast to the sea of orange surrounding him. Even from a distance, there was no denying it. Nox was aghast, the rumours were true, the Occupation had lied; Tron was alive, Flynn's Champion had returned.

He had to act, he had to help. He glanced around for anything he could use when his gaze caught sight of the recognizer out front and he got an idea.

—

It was tooth and nail fighting against the odds, but Tron had managed to rejoin with his split team. While he could hold off the oncoming troops with ease, he could tell things were going south for the rest of his programs. Several had already sustained injuries and didn't look like they'd last much longer. One other thing he noticed was that Zed wasn't with them which, even amidst the thick of combat, still slightly irritated Tron. It was him they'd come back to get.

—

The lift stopped at the pilot's cabin in the recognizer and Nox got off only to see another person already at the controls. Upon hearing Nox enter, the other program spun around and Nox saw that it was Zed. The limping program drew his disk and with his other hand supported himself against the control console. "I know you think this is wrong, but it isn't. I have to help my friends down there."

Nox took out his disk, but instead of igniting it he rolled across the floor to Zed, "I need to help mine, too."

Zed relaxed a little, "Truce?"

"Truce."

Zed waved him over, "Now how do you fly this thing?"

The former Occupation soldier walked over, cracked his knuckles, and gripped the controls with confidence, "Like this."

—

They were pressed in tight. Back to back, Tron and his group were pressed together against the surround Occupation troops. Tron had spotted several opportunities to make a push towards the door, but each time they had tried, it fell apart as the orange soldiers pressed the attack all the harder.

He cast another glance at the door, they'd have to make this next push count and things might be easier, the doors looked closer than before. In fact there were actually getting closer as he looked at them. He suddenly realized why as the double large doors flew past him, having been blown off their hinges. Since Tron and everyone had been standing in the middle of the room, the doors went flying on either side of them, clearing out much of the surrounding Occupation forces. Tron turned to see a recognizer hovering in the now much larger entrance way. It landed and who should get out of it of all people, but Zed. Tron just shook his head and motioned everyone to follow him.

Once onboard, their pilot, Nox, took them into the Outlands. Before taking them to the hideout, Tron offered the him and his friends the opportunity to simply leave Argon. They could escort them to any of the surrounding cities where they could hide from the Occupation.

"With respect, sir," Lauren said, "we did what we did back there to help you, and that's what we're going to do."

Tron gave her a nod, "Then appreciate your help. Once we land we can get you situated."

While she was talking with Tron, Camille went up front with Nox. He looked calmly out over the rocky outcroppings of the Outlands. They both stood there for a moment before she spoke, "Reminds me of Gallium. Do you remember? We always head to the outskirts of town and look out over the horizon."

There was a long pause, "I remember."

"You know, you don't have to come with us."

He gave her an affectionate glance, before turned back to the cockpit window, "I was never too involved with the Occupation back in Gallium. You remember Deez? She and I were just getting to know each other. She really thought the Clu and all them were really something, but I never paid much attention. Then, when I got called away from our home to Argon, I went back to what she had told me. I trusted that the Occupation had a good reason for taking me away from Gallium and from her."

"Now you can go back," Camille added, trying to help, but Nox just shook his head.

"She wouldn't have if she knew what I did today. And honestly, knowing exactly what kind of people the Occupation makes you become, I don't think I would want her either." He cast a look back at Tron, "These are worthy programs here. These are the friends I'd like to have," he nodded toward Camille, "the friends I _do_ have."

Zed leaned against the corner of the compartment watching Camille and Nox talk. He gave a faint sigh as he slowly got up and walked along the wall to where Tron was. He wanted to apologize for the mission, when Mara spotted him. She came over and flung her arms around him, "You're ok! What happened?"

Zed tried to recall, "I was up in the rafters when I thought I saw a light. I went to go check it out and the next thing I knew I was knock off my feet and fell to the floor."

"Did you get hurt?"

"Not besides the usual," he said, patting his already lame leg. He looked up and Mara tranced his gaze to Tron.

She guessed what he was thinking. "It wasn't you fault, Zed."

"Wasn't it, though?" he sighed, "If I hadn't have come, then none of this would have happened. No one would have gotten injured and none of you would have been put in harm's way."

Mara looked away thoughtfully, "True." She looked around and caught sight of Lauren laughing with Dash, "But," she added, "if you hadn't have come we wouldn't have three new recruits," she gestured to the ship, " _or_ a recognizer. Don't worry about Tron, he knows what you did, and yeah, it could be better." She stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "but it was still pretty good."


	6. Episode 6: Allies

**Greetings Programs! Sorry for the late post but college is back in session for me, hence the delay. More will come, but they may not be in as timely a fashion. Anyway, enjoy the read and don't forget to R &R!**

—

Accessing Archived Data…

A new threat comes to Argon…

 _Shaw paced irritably in the tiny, vaulted space,_ " _I build Tesler a weapon of unimaginable power, and he gives me eight guards."_

And Tron can see the danger it presents…

" _A massive power upgrade in strength and agility. If this had found its way to Tesler, his forces would have been insurmountable." With supreme gravity, Tron continued, "This weapon is far more dangerous than you know Beck: destroy it immediately."_

Beck does his best…

 _Tempted by the power it gave, but knowing the harm it could do, Beck held the mod disk above his head as the laser swung over. Its red hot beam slicing the disk in half._

But Pavel recovers the disk…

 _To his utter amazement, Pavel watched as the misshapen mod began to regrow itself, it's circular structure reforming to the original whole. As its self repair neared completion, Pavel saw how all his machinations were suddenly possible and he laughed with satisfaction at his new found power._

And has given it to Tesler...

 _With a smile of innocence, Pavel explained everything, "You see Paige, I was always going to turn it in," motioning to the power mod, "once I knew it worked."_

If only to get more power…

 _Dyson turned to face the program, "By the way, when I came the first time, I got your colleague's name, but not yours."_

" _Commander Pavel, sir," Pavel made a exaggerated bow, "at your service."_

 _It was Clu who spoke next, "If Tesler fails here today, we may need your service."_

—

A small group of programs with helmet's raised cautiously approached the underside of a bridge. They were supposed to meet _him_ here, but as of yet there was no sign of any other program, a fact that made several of the group nervous. The lead program, who had light red grid-lines, motioned for the group to halt. He checked around one corner and a green lighted female program looked around the other. The red program looked to the green who gave a thumbs up. Relaxing a little, the programs collapsed their helmets. "We're safe," the red lighted program said.

"I'll like it better when we're out of Argon,"replied a teal colored program.

"Relax Proteas," the green program ran her fingers through her matching colored hair, "Once the Renegade gets here, we'll be out before you know it."

"Once _Tron_ gets here you mean, Opal" the red program corrected.

"Same difference, Deek."

Deek did not reply, figuring it best not to argue. He stroked his short mustache, it had been several cycles since he had set up the meeting with Tron. It had taken a lot of work, but he'd eventually managed to get his plan in motion. Stowing away onto the capital ship, he had hardwired the grid lights to flash red and white, if anything would get Tron's attention, the enemy's giant ship changing colors would do it. Sure enough, when Deek landed with his wingshoot, it wasn't too long before the champion in white found him.

Their conversation had been brief. Deek had simply told Tron that he and several others wanted to join him, but that it would take time to get the word around to the others. They'd agreed to meet under the bridge to Purgos three cycles from then. Deek reflected on their talk, remembering the discomfort he'd had lying to the one program he was sure he could trust. He didn't really want to fight the Occupation and neither did the programs he mentioned. All they wanted to do was get away from Argon. That was it. No revolutionary ideas, no desire to strike back, they only wanted to leave. That's not to say he and the others liked the Occupation, but the fight just wasn't in them. So reluctant were they in fact that it had taken Deek seemingly forever to convince them to try to leave the city in the first place.

Minutes passed as they waited for the Renegade. The drawn out time, on top of being out past curfew, was enough to put all of them on edge. There was a clank and every single one of the group drew their disks in response, only to see a few grid bugs crawl their way out of a pipe. None of the programs put their disks back.

"I can't take this any more!" Proteas yelled as he dashed to the side of the bridge, "He's not coming, he's not-" He was stopped by several people tackling him to the ground to keep him quiet.

"Get off of him," Deek ordered calmly, but sternly. He offered a hand to Proteas and pulled the shaken and nervous program to his feet. "Pro' keep it together. You can do this, we just have to wait a little longer."

With a shuddering sigh, Proteas relaxed, "You're right, you're right...I'm sorry."

"We'll pull through this, I promise."

There was a flicker of motion behind him. The programs rezzed their helmets and Deek, disk still in hand, whipped around to respond only to have a someone catch his arm before striking.

"I'm not _that_ late," the program in white said. Deek's disk had been stopped an inch from the Beck's vizor.

"Tron!" Deek docked his disk, flustered. "I'm sorry, I thought you were, well, someone else."

You're not half wrong, Beck thought to himself before replying, "Glad you could make it."

"What took you so long?" Opal said walking up.

Beck reflected on the number of patrols and recognizers he'd had to avoid and evade to get to the bridge. Clu's troops were out in force, still looking for the elusive Ram, whoever that was, and the increased manpower made any efforts to sneak through the city even more constrictive. "I ran into some old friends," Beck replied humorously. Some of the programs chuckled and the palpable tension relaxed a little. "How many of you are there?"

"Seventeen," Deek replied, "Are we ready to go?"

"Not so fast," Beck held up his hand, "I need to trust you," he tapped his helmet. One by one, the programs lowered their vizors in response.

Deek was the first to lower his, "The names Deek, I'm the, eh, leader per se of our little group here."

"Good to hear, we could use more programs like you in the Uprising," at this, some of the people looked away, uncomfortable.

Deek ran a hand nervously through his short hair, "About that, we didn't really want to join you." Beck didn't say anything so Deek continued, "We just want to leave."

"Leave?"

"Yes, to leave. To get away from Argon, to escape the Occupation," Deek's shoulders slumped, "I know this isn't what I told you or what you're looking for, but we need your help."

Deek couldn't see it, but Beck's smile dropped in disappointment. They need more programs to join them. They were already better off with the few people who'd come onboard after Tron was healed, but still, more recruits could only make things easier. He looked at these programs and could see the fear and gloom hanging over them; they were desperate. They wanted Clu gone as much as he did, but they weren't fighters; they were scared and just wanted to live in peace. "I'll get you out of the city."

A teal colored program spoke up, "You will?"

"The Uprising needs all the help we can get to help save the Grid. But whether you join or not, you still deserve to be free. Not everyone will fight, but the fight is _for_ everyone."

Deek smiled, "Thank you, we all-" there was a rumble.

"Everyone get down," Beck ordered as the programs stepped back into the shadow of the bridge. Everyone that is, except Opal.

"Get out of sight," Beck told her, but the green haired program didn't move.

"Opal," Deek said in a clenched whisper, "what are you doing?"

"Helping," she replied with a grin. Beck and Deek looked at each other, comprehension dawning. Opal pulled out an echo flare and shot it out of the tunnel before Beck could stop her. With a terrible sinking feeling, Beck and the refugees looked on as the flare burst into a bright orange explosion. The rumble suddenly grew louder.

"We need to go, _now_ ," Beck motioned for the programs to follow him, "did you bring light cycles?"

"Of course," Deek and the others unstrapped their batons, "Always come prepared." If it weren't for the imminent soldiers about to come down on them, Beck might have said something witty in reply. But before he could so much as say a word, the deep rumble was suddenly on top of them as two recognizers flew in over head. Looking up, Beck could see a battalion of black guards drop from the ships. Without even using wingshoots, the soldiers landed with perfect grace, surrounding Beck and the refugees. All of them, that is, except Opal.

Beck drew his disk and lunged at the nearest trooper, driving his shoulder into the guard's faceplate. The refugees likewise engaged the soldiers, they were lesser in skill, but they outmanned the enemy almost two to one, a fact that Beck thought was odd. As he and Deek plowed their way through the soldiers to street level, he got his answer. Some seven squads of guardsmen stood waiting for them on top of the bridge lead by none other than Pavel himself.

"I was told we'd have a special guest," Pavel said with evident glee.

"Glad I could be the VIP," Beck replied.

"Not quite as important as _she_ is," Opal stepped out from behind a Pavel and stood beside him. "You're doomed, Renegade, even this poor program knows it!"

Beck raised his disk, as did Deek and the others. They had never _meant_ to fight the Occupation, that didn't mean they _wouldn't_. "I always did enjoy being the underdog."

"Really?" Pavel took something from behind his back and Beck's eyes went wide. In Pavel's hand was the power mod. How was that possible? Beck had destroyed the thing himself, had they somehow managed to make a new one? Beck's fear turned to horror as not only Pavel, but every single black guard behind him took out a copy of the power mod and equipped it. "Let's see if you still enjoy it,"

Their grid lines flashed bright orange and Beck tightened his grip on his disk, they were about to be in the fight of their lives.

—

TRON Uprising:

Allies

—

"Capture these programs," Pavel ordered, "but leave the Renegade to me," and with that, the flanks of black guards stormed towards Beck and refugees. It was an all out brawl. Disks flew everywhere as both sides clashed in the middle of the bridge. Beck did his best to defend the other programs, but they turned out to be surprisingly scrappy. Beck flipped his most recent assailant over his shoulder and got a moment to look around; they were losing ground, being pushed further and further back along the bridge. He tried to think of an exit strategy when he saw someone hurl a disk at him out of the corner of his eye. Having barely enough time to parry the shot, Beck was knocked off his feet by the sheer force of the hit. Again, someone tried to drive a blade into him and he rolled back to his feet to see Pavel pry his disk from where Beck's head had been only moments before.

"This is fun-YAAH!" Beck dodged the jab, but Pavel was just too fast. With blinding speed, Pavel roundhouse kicked Beck into the barrier on the edge of the bridge, knocking the air out of him. Beck tried to get up, but Pavel kicked him again, causing Beck to collapse onto the ground. "My, my," Pavel stood over him, "they just don't make rebellious programs like they used to."

"Speak for yourself," said Deek as he rushed from behind.

Pavel spun around and with ease, blocked the attack. Deek was stunned and Pavel took the opportunity to knee him in the stomach. Then, with a well delivered punch, knocked Deek over the edge, off the bridge, and into the dark water below. With an air of blasé, he motioned to two guards who dove after Deek to retrieve his body. Beck, meanwhile, was beginning to come around, but it was too late. Two blackguards roughly pulled him to his feet and a third put a set of binders on his wrists. Across the bridge, the valiant yet outmatched refugees had surrendered.

"Well, that was a fine day's work," Pavel said, docking his disk.

"Shall I take his helmet off, sir?" a guardsman asked, pointing to Beck.

"Yes," he replied with relish. The guard reached for Beck's disk, but just then Pavel changed his mind, "On second thought, why ruin the surprise? We'll save the 'unveiling' for our audience with Clu."

Beck could see on the other side of the bridge the soldiers forcing the refugees to load into trucks. They're going to the Games, Beck realized. He had to do something. He made a feeble attempt to get up but a guard elbowed him hard in the back, forcing him to stay down.

"I wonder how long they'll last?" Pavel mused as the trucks carrying the despondent refugees drove off to the colosseum, "So hard to come by decent entertainment these days."

Beck's mind raced as he watched the vehicles depart. He needed to escape, but the guard's grip was… loose? Beck could feel the hands holding him down slacken. Rather than wait for an explanation, he took his chance. Ducking down, he kicked the legs out from under the trooper closest to him and before Pavel or the others could react, he dove over the side, into the water and out of sight.

"You idiots!" Pavel yelled, "After him!" As several soldiers plunged into the murky depths in pursuit, another guard got his attention by pointing to something in the water. Shading his eyes, Pavel peared out over the railing to see two unconscious people floating in the liquid. It was the two guards who'd gone after Deek.

Tron stood on the edge of a platform. It had no engines. It had no wings. It had no thickness. It glided along in a smooth, edgeless sea. He was in his champion white like back in the old days. A hand appeared on his shoulder.

"This is it, man. The New System," Tron gave his friend look, "I know it's not much to look at, but it's gonna really be something. The Perfect System." He shook his head, this friend always got carried away with his work.

"So what did you want me to protect?" Tron asked not unkindly. "There's nothing here."

"Not true. You'll meet Clu when we land. But besides him, I've got plans, there'll be cities, roads, ships and light cycles the likes of which nobody's ever seen." Despite his inherent skepticism, Tron couldn't help smiling at the enthusiasm in the voice of Kevin. Flynn always did have a way with words. They landed on a rocky outcropping atop which stood a waiting program in stark yellow. Tron could never get over how the two looked so similar but acted so different; Flynn was all ease and confidence, but Clu always had a polished veneer of reserve. He wasn't cold, or at least he wasn't then, but he was controlled; Clu never said anything unless he felt it needed to be said.

The cycles passed. Everything Flynn had said he'd do, he did. Buildings were erected, roads made, the grand stadium for the then non-lethal Games placed in the central hub of the Grid. Tron remembered it all, for he'd had this dream before. Together with Clu and Flynn, he stood atop a skyscraper and surveyed their work; Kevin had built it, Clu had perfected it, and Tron had protected it. In that moment in memory there was a pang of nostalgia, remorse for everything that had collapsed. Tron look at his two friends and sighed, knowing what would eventually happen. In his dream, the cities always crumbled, the roads always wore away, and the grand stadium fell.

But they didn't. Something was wrong. The world glitched around Tron, pieces of his vision blurring into static for brief moments. He looked out in panic. The buildings hadn't crumbled, but were being consumed by an orange glow, the roads repaved in yellow, and the stadium bathed in red light. Tron looked to Clu and Flynn, but they were gone, he was alone on the cliff. The glow from the city began to crawl its way up to him, but he couldn't move. Jagged grid lines creeped up to the rock beneath his feet, beginning to subsume his legs in yellow light.

Tron jerked his head up from the terminal. He looked around, realizing he was till in the observation room at the hideout. Rubbing his eye with the butt of his hand, he reprimanded himself for staying up for so long without sleep. There had been a sizable intel report from Raven and he hadn't stopped examining it since she brought it to him. Standing up, he closed out the computer station and walked to the door, it was time he got some proper rest.

He passed Mara and Zed in the hallway, "How's the intel looking?" Zed asked.

"From everything I've seen, the Occupation is moving more troops out of Gallium to Argon and Purgos. Little surprise there."

"Anything else?" Mara asked.

"Raven left for training before she decrypted the entire file. There may be more, but we'll have to wait…" Tron trailed off, but Mara and Zed didn't seem to notice. They said goodbye, explaining how Zed had never used the observation window before and wanted to try it, but the older program didn't seem to notice. Tron slowly resumed his walked to his sleeping quarters, frequently looking back at the two programs; he could have sworn their grid lines had been orange for a moment.

In tight "V" formation, Pavel's squadron of light jets steered for the capital ship. Inside the hanger drumming his fingers impatiently was Tesler. Neither Clu or Dyson were present and Tesler prefered to keep it that way. The trap for the refugees had been a test for the new power mod, or more specifically, the duplicates they'd managed to create. Ever since Pavel had come forward with the upgrade, both he and Tesler had been searching for a way to test the technology. When Clu arrived, all of their efforts had to be made covert; if the power mod and its copies didn't work, neither of the two wanted it held against them. They had gotten their perfect opportunity a few cycles ago when a scared, shaken female program had come to them to rat out a meeting between the Renegade and several other programs. She had times, dates, and even the exact location where it would take place. Pavel would mount the strike team and he alone would be using the original power mod while the rest of the troops sported duplicates. Thus far, Clu had shown no awareness of their proceedings and neither had Dyson, but depending on the success of this trial run, that might soon change.

Flying low, Pavel and company touched down on the second tier of the hanger and Tesler quickly realized more programs had come back than had initially gone out. Stowing his baton, Pavel made his way to the general. "The trial run was nominally successful."

"Is the Renegade dead?" Tesler pointedly asked.

"No-"

"Then it wasn't a success," Telser cut him off, "Even with these upgrades, you still failed."

But Pavel was unphased, "The Renegade exposed a weakness in the mod that we had previously overlooked." He waved one of the guards over and bade him remove his copy of the mod. The thing was still holding its circular shape, but its once red circuit lines were now black and large cracks could be seen in the transparent material. "The motherboard is only stable for approximately thirteen micros," he continued, "after that, the additional strength and speed decay to normal levels."

Tesler thought for a moment. He hadn't expected this setback when he had initially order Shaw to create the disks and certainly not when he actually got his hands on it. Still, despite the handicap, thirteen micros of increased effectiveness was a potent advantage to have. "Is it possible to increase the duration?" he asked.

"It's hard to say, sir," Pavel ran his finger over the edge of the miniature disk, "I will look into it."

"Do that. In the meantime-who is this?" Tesler realized why his head-count had been off; one of the light jets to return had been flown by a civilian.

Opal stepped forward, "My name is Opal, general Tesler, sir."

"So you're the one who gave us the information?"

"Yes, sir."

Tesler snapped his fingers to Pavel who removed, although not reluctantly, the original power mod. Tesler held it before Opal. "Do you know what this is?"

"No, sir," she said, understandably confused.

The Occupation general looked through the miniature disk at the female program, thinking. He then shrugged, indifferent, "No witnesses." In rapid succession, he clenched his fist, charged his gauntlet, and blasted a hole in Opal's chest, to her complete and final shock. Even Pavel flinched at the sudden brutality as the female program disintegrated into bits. He resumed attention, however, when Tesler addressed him, "I want you to further the duration of the effects. And as I was saying before, there is to be no report of this."

"Understood, your vehemence."

Tesler's hands hummed in renewed agitation, "Then understand this as well: that _malcontent_ has been a pain in my side for far too long and tonight with the perfect advantage, you let him escape."

"True my liege," Pavel bowed low in solemnity, "but I already have a plan to correct that." Pavel pointed out of the hanger and Tesler followed his gaze to the stadium, "The Renegade might have escaped, but the others we managed to capture. They're being held in the coliseum and when the Renegade arrives to rescue them…" Pavel left the end off, instead smiling malignantly.

Beck grabbed a hold on a ledge and pulled himself from the cold water, a feat that was hindered by his hands still be bound together. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the bridge in the distance. Crouching low, he drew his disk, expecting to have been followed. But no one came up and he eventually relaxed. He was safe for the time being. Sitting on the ground, he took off his helmet, his head was still pulsing with pain from the kick Pavel had given him. He wedged his disk in a nearby rock and put his binders to the cutting edge, severing them. Casting a glance over the bay, his mind went to the refugees who had undoubtedly been sent to the games. I failed them, Beck thought. Those programs had trusted him, put their faith in his protection and he had let them down. And the power mod—how had Tesler managed to recover it? Beck could vividly remember destroying the thing back in the garage so how had they recreated it? The idea of every soldier in Argon equipped with the upgrade was chilling. If the Occupation managed to distribute them, the Uprising would be all but doomed. He recalled back on the bridge when he'd been pinned by the guards, it could have been over then and there for him. He still wasn't sure how he'd managed to get away in the first place. The enhanced troops had simply been too strong to overcome even with Tron's training, so what had done it?

He was distracted when he heard a splash. Who should poke his head out of the water but Deek. "I took out the two guards who tried to follow me, did you-" but he stopped and stared at Beck, his face falling.

"I think I know where they took your friends, if we hurry we can get to them before...," Deek continued to stare. "What's wrong?"

The cool glow of the city behind Deek cast him into deep silhouette, shadows chasing each other over his face. "Who are you?"

"What do mean," Beck asked "I'm-" and stopped. His voice wasn't altered any more and he realized his helmet was still down.

"You're not Tron." All the air escaped from Deek as disappointment and betrayal seemed to crumble the program's chest. "You're not Tron," Deek repeated, his voice heavy with defeat.

Beck gave a deep sigh, "I'm not, but Tron _is_ alive."

Deek met his eyes, his own filled with forlorn,"Why should I believe you?" Beck couldn't answer, "Why did you pretend to be Tron when I met you? Why did you make us believe there was a chance?" Deek crossed his arms and rested his head in his hand, "We thought we could escape…"

Beck stood up, "I can still help you. I'm not Tron, but-"

"You're right, you're _not_ Tron," His voice wasn't angry, but pained as if all the hope that had rested in that one name had evaporated.

"Deek, there's a good reason why I did this, because I want to help you," Beck pulled his disk from the rock and docked it, "And Tron or not, I still want to."

"How can I trust you? What if-" Deek suddenly drew his disk, "What if this was all a trap and _you're_ part of it!"

Beck put his hands up, "No, I'm not." The cord of tension in the air was palpable, but short lived. Deek heaved a sigh and dropped his stance and Beck cautiously lowered his hands. There was a long moment of silence as Deek waded deep into thought with Beck only able to guess at what he was thinking.

The tenure of quiet ended, "Look," Deek put his disk on his back, "I just want to make my sure my friends are safe. I didn't want to do the whole 'fighting' thing again," Deek rubbed his eyes as if with fatigue, "I'm not good at it." He then continued, "I think what you're doing is… well, I don't know. My friends are in trouble and right now you're the only person I have. I don't want any part in this fight, but," he extended his hand, "I still need your help."

Beck grasped his hand and shaking it replied, "You can count on it."

Deek's face eased up a little but quickly became serious, "So where do we start? If they're already at the stadium, getting them it is going to be impossible."

"So let's get them before the arrive," Beck stood next to Deek looking out over the waterfront, "I saw the guards put them into the back of couple trucks before they got away. If we can intercept those, we stand a better chance of freeing them."

Rezzing his helmet, Deek replied with determination, "Which way were they headed?"

"Across the opposite end of the the bridge," and with that, Deek took the lead, leaping into the air and decompressing his light cycle with Beck close behind as the two raced off into the city.

The hallway to Pavel's work room was long and narrow which contributed to the uneasy feeling the guard had. Ever since the commander had come back, he'd locked himself in the workshop and had ordered a slew of mechanical equipment to be moved in. Everything from wrenches to splicers to the code extractor they used for torture had been relocated to what the guard frankly thought resembled a mad scientist's lab. One of the more recent demands made by Pavel was for a set of blank data cubes which he, the guard, had been unfortunately selected to retrieve.

The cubes clinked around inside the container the guard was holding and he quickly opened it in paranoia to ensure nothing had broken. Nothing had and the guard sighed in relief and kept walking, unaware of another program following close behind. The shadowy figure held a good distance between them to ensure he wasn't discovered and quickly had to duck out of sight as two more guards joined the first. While hiding, in his mind the tailing program retraced his steps back to the last door, from their to the next one and from there all the way back to hanger. If things went south, he needed an escape path and fast. Collapsing his helmet to reveal a mess of sandy colored hair and a round nose, the pursuing program dared a look around the corner. The two guards had left the first one who had resumed his walk to Pavel's chambers. Taking a deep breath, the pursuing program put his helmet back up and casually approached the other guard.

Meanwhile, Pavel stared contemptuously down at his most recent attempt at a power mod copy. The lab he was in was spacious, with an open floor plan that housed double doors at one end and a large viewing window on the other. At the moment, however, Pavel could have cared less about the nice view he had. The accursed thing just wouldn't work with him. He had done everything that _should_ increase the effect duration, but the results had been...hazardous. He bent over, putting his eye inches from the glazed surface of the miniature disk, searching for any cracks or blemishes that might disrupt the system. As with the other countless copies he'd made, this one was perfect. That is, at least in form, not function.

"You!" Pavel pointed at the nearest guard. He had his own personal security detail while working in the lab, "I need you to test this." Gulping nervously, the guard approached, skirting an area of the floor covered in the voxels of pervious test subjects. He picked up the disk and seemed to considered it for a moment. "Are you going to put it on, or will I have to 'help' you with it?" The guard shook his head quickly and placed the copied mod onto his disk dock. A familiar glow passed over his gridlines as the mod's abilities took effect. The guard then walked over to a series of weights just as the other test subjects had done before and taking the heaviest one in hand, he effortlessly lifted it over his head. A small smile appeared on Pavel's face. It was working. His pleased expression cracked, however, as the guard's grid lines began to flair brighter and brighter until he was blazing edifice of light. And then nothing. Pavel had shielded his eyes from the intensity, but when he took his hand away to see what happened, he only say a new layer of voxels coating the floor where the guard had stood only moments before.

Pavel slammed his fist on the table in frustration, everything should be working perfectly. There wasn't a single part of the original he hadn't copied _exactly_ ; the coding, the embedded pathways, everything was precisely as it should be. And yet the copies obviously had some flaw, some minute error that threw the rest of the system off. But _WHAT?!_ He had slammed the desk the moment the guard carrying the data cubes came in, the impact had covered the sound of the door opening so Pavel was surprised when he noticed the guard in the room.

"What took you so long?!" Pavel barked.

"I-" the guard paused for a moment, "I ran into someone."

"Nevermind that," he beckon the guard to set the data cubes down on the desk. Taking one of the cubes in hand, the commander placed it under one of the large machines they had hauled into the lab. He shuttered a protective screen across the front part of the device and after inserting the original power mod into a scanner, threw the start lever. A dense piston slowly descended onto the data cube, compressing and molding it into a rough semi-circle. Pavel repeated the process twice more and the result was a brand new copy of the mod. Taking it out of the machine, Pavel sat down at his work station and bent studiously over the the original mod, comparing it to the newly minted copy.

"I wonder…" Pavel trailed off thinking aloud.

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"I wasn't talking to _you_ ," resuming his study, Pavel held both disks up to the light, "I don't get it. The pathways are identical, yet the framework keeps over heating." He looked around speculatively, "What other material could we make…" His gaze had landed on the dead program's voxels on the floor. A greedy smile grew on his face, "Well there's an idea." Scooping up a large handful of the voxels, Pavel stuffed them into the machine to which the guard could only look on in horror as it with the unquestioning regularity compressed the dead programs into a perfect disk shape. Withdrawing the newly formed disk, Pavel held it up to his eye, "Hmmm," he turned it around, "if there is a difference, it's not one I can see," he shoved the disk in the guard's face, "test it."

"Me?!" the guard looked at the cubes under his feet.

"Yes, you. Test it." The guard made no move to take it and Pavel drew his disk, "Am I going to have to _convince_ you, program?"

The guard shook his head and with an unsteady hand, took the morbid power mod copy. After taking a deep breath, he placed it on his back. There was a powerful surge as the coding integrated with his system and the shock pushed the guard to his knees. But as soon as it had come it was gone as the guard felt the keen edge of the spike ebb off. The guard looked at Pavel who only pointed at the heavy weights. Hesitant, the guard gripped the dumbbell and with a heave tried to lift it over his head. It went over his head alright, in fact, he lifted it with such force that it flew out of his grip and lodged itself in the ceiling.

"It worked!" Pavel shouted.

"Can I take it off now?" the guard asked.

"No," the commander replied, "I must see if it can maintain its functionality for a set time, or…" Pavel grinned, "indefinitely."

The door to the room opened and both the guard and Pavel turned around to see a squad of sentries enter the room. "What's the meaning of this?" Pavel barked at them.

"We have reports of an intruder, sir."

Pavel replied unkindly, "It's not as if he could have sneaked his way into this room. All my personal are accounted for."

"Sir, did you send a program to retrieve a set of data cubes for you?"

"What if I did?"

The sentries gave each other an uneasy look. "He never made it back here, sir."

"What are you talking about?" Pavel pointed at the guard who had tested the new mod, "he's standing right there!"

"We found the other program in a wall compartment."

Pavel froze, "What?"

"The program you sent for the data cubes, we found him in a storage closet, unconscious." Slowly Pavel turned to face the guard and drew his disk. The black guards who were already in the room did likewise as they, Pavel, and the newly arrived sentries formed around the lone guardsman.

"The jig is up, I'm guessing?"

"There's nowhere to run," Pavel sneered.

"Who said anything about running?" the imposter guard whipped out his disk blindingly fast, "Flynn always said I was a fighter not a lover." He simply got a confused looked from Pavel, "Nevermind." In a desperate move, he lunged at the sentries blocking the door. _Shrrrrrrezzzzz_ screamed his disk as it grated along the edge of their staffs. Leaving the cutting edge off, he jammed his disk into their helmets, first one guard then the other. Then something swung at him from out of the corner of his eye. Placing his foot on the nearest sentries chest, the imposter jumped into the air, backflipping over what turned out to be a disk flying towards him. Landing with a grace that surprised him, the imposter looked up to see the disk return to its owner, Pavel. The leering Occupation commander smugly took the original mod off the table and putting it on.

"I'd ask where you'd like to die," Pavel looked around, appreciating the room, "but this does seem quite nice."

"It really does," the imposter guard cast a brief glance over his shoulder. The other guards were press him up against the large window. He got an idea. "It'd be a shame to ruin it."

Confused only for a moment, Pavel then shouted to the troops, "Stop him!" But it was too late. The imposter had wheeled around and with a running had dived through the large viewing window. "Out of the way!" Pavel shoved the soldiers off to get a look out the broken viewport as the imposter fell.

"He can't survive that, sir." a sentry remarked. The imposter didn't seem to have wing shoot and the same idea had crossed his mind as well. Yet, as he fell, the posing guard couldn't help but think that he was falling slower than normal. The ground seemed to slowly rise up to meet him he dropped further from the window in the flagship. Puzzled for a moment, he quickly realized that he was still wearing the copied power mod, it must have increased his reflex speed. There might still be a chance, then. With the additional time, which still wasn't, much, he looked for anyway to slow his descent. There! Off to the right was a spiralling skyscraper aglow with iridescent blue. If he managed to hit the curved section just right, he could disperse his momentum without shattering into voxels. It would have to be _just_ right, however.

Pavel and the company of soldiers watch as the imposter guard angled toward the highrise. They also watched as he dexterously slid off its roof onto the spiral edifice curling around the building and rode it down safely to street level.

"Huh," a guard remarked. He straightened up when Pavel glaringly turned to him. Pavel didn't get angry put simply smiled and put a hand on the trooper's shoulder. Dropping his grin, he then pushed the guard out the window.

"Tell the patrols to keep a look out for a rogue guardsman," the sentry nodded and left to fulfill the order, his feet crunching on the remaining voxels on the floor of the lab, "The rest of you, notify the Game's overseers." He stooped down and picked up a handful of the dead programs's cubes, "it's time to put the failures of the Coliseum to work. And speaking of the Coliseum…" Pavel snapped at a guard, "Ready my ship." The trooper quickly left and Pavel turned to the broken viewport, out over the city to the stadium, "Our refugees will be needing a rescue soon and I intend to provide a warm welcome"

White and red cycle trails raced over the freeway in central Argon. Beck and Deek had been pushing their bikes to the max to catch up to the trucks full of captured programs. After many micros, they finally had the trucks in sight, but it wasn't what they'd expected. "There are recognizers!" Deek shouted over the roar of the engines. From the road they could see the lead trucks unloading containers full of programs onto a landing platform from which recognizers were picking them up and taking them away. "They're taking them to the Games! We have to hurry!"

Beck slowed down, "Wait, we have-" but Deek shot past him, "Deek, STOP!"

Fishtailing his bike around, the red program faced the Renegade, "We don't have time if we don't get them now-"

"We _can't_ get them now. There are only two of us," Beck pointed emphatically up at the landing platform, "There are bound to be guards up there. If we go in disks drawn, there isn't a chance we can get your friends out, much less escape ourselves."

The point struck home. Deek looked helplessly up at the recognizer that had just taken off, "Then what do we do."

"We can't attack the platform, so our only option is to hitch a ride on a ship and free your friends _at_ the Coliseum." When Deek didn't respond, "This won't be easy."

"None of this is," the red program revved his engine, "but it's the only shot we have." He rezzed his helmet and looked to Beck, "I'll follow your lead."

Up on the platform, two guards stood talking near the edge. "You hear what happened on the flagship? Somebody broke into Commander Pavel's lab."

"Have they caught him?"

"No. The last report said he was headed toward the Coliseum."

"I wonder how he got onto the ship."

"He was disguised as a guard. From what I heard he was pretty convincing. Makes you wonder who you can trust." He turned to the guard, "Any news on the Ram hunt?" But the other guard wasn't there. "What-?" A hand grabbed his leg and jerked him off the platform into the water below.

Deek poked his head over the edge and scanned for anyone else, "All clear." Beck, helmet raised, pulled himself up onto the deck and surveyed their surroundings. "Which one are we boarding?" There was a loud hum from their right and turning around, they saw a recognizer take off.

"That one," the ship was already off the ground as the two ran towards it. "This way!" Beck waved Deek over to a stack of shipping containers and they began to climb. At the top, they were level with the leg of the recognizer, "Jump!" Leaping out into space, Beck slammed into the recognizer's thruster and held on for dear life. Deek was close behind and managed to land with a little more grace. The ship was high in the air now, cruising steadily toward the Games stadium and looking down only made it harder to hold on as the engine's vibrations made keeping a grip difficult. "Up here!" Beck climbed up the side of the ship onto the roof. Leaning back over the edge he gave a hand to Deek and once the two were on top, they crawled toward the access hatch. The plan was to duck inside, take out the pilot, and commandeer the controls. Beck held up his hand and began ticking off from five. Four. Three. Two. One. Deek yanked open the hatch. Beck placed his hands on the edge of the lid and swung himself inside. His momentum carried him feet first into the back of the head of the pilot. Beck rolled to the floor only to be grazed in the arm by a disk. Rolling toward the hatch, he saw the co-pilot charge towards him only to be engaged by Deek. The red lighted program dueled the Occupation trooper only for a few seconds and then, with sharp elbow to the head, knocked the soldier out cold.

"You know," Beck walked over and took the controls, derezzing his helmet, "for a program who doesn't like to fight, your not bad."

"Skills from another life," Deek replied, lowering his visor as well. Beck only raised an eyebrow but Deek didn't explain any further. "Do we have a plan for how we're going to get everyone out of the stadium?"

Beck guiltily shrugged, "Working on it."

"You don't-" he sighed, "so we're going in blind?"

"Not necessarily," Beck punch several buttons on the ship's readout, "I remember the layout pretty well from the last time I was there."

A pause. "You were sent to the games?"

Beck turned the helm to follow the other recognizers, "Yeah. Before Tron found me."

"Oh, I see." Deek went to the console and took the co-pilot's station.

"You still don't think Tron is alive?"

"You haven't made a very convincing case," Deek adjusted one of the controls, "Getting sent to the games while you were the Renegade."

"Like I said," was the reply, "It was before I met Tron." He turned back to the cockpit window, "Back then I was just a mechanic."

"A mechanic?" Deek almost laughed, "how did you get" he motioned to Beck's white suite, "all this started?" For a moment, there was only the hum of the recognizer's engines. Neither program said a word, but Deek noticed that Beck's charmed and welcome grin had faded.

Tron's successor sighed, "The Occupation reached Argon well after they'd taken over the rest of the Grid. We had no idea that Flynn was gone, or that Tron had been attacked."

"You mean that he'd been killed," Deek added.

A knowing smile flickered across Beck's face, but he continued, "So when the Occupation arrived, we have no idea what to expect. Unfortunately, we learned very quickly. I was just out with my friends, I wasn't the Renegade, I wasn't a rebel, I was just a mechanic that had it good." Beck turned to Deek, "I had a friend, Bodhi. He could be hotheaded and stubborn, but I guess that's why we were friends. When the Occupation landed, they disrupted our court game and Bodhi wouldn't have it. They derezzed him, right then and there."

"What did you do?"

"I cut off the head of Clu's statue and threw a bomb in it." His grip on the steering console tightened, "I wanted them to know that I wasn't afraid to fight back. I wasn't going to let my friend's death stand for nothing."

Deek's response was surprisingly bitter as he leaned on the dash to look out the viewport, "At least you did something."

Beck's tone was cautious, "Did you lose someone?"

"Ha!" Deek replied. It could have been a cry as much as a laugh, "Not _someone_."

"How many?"

Deek hung his head, "Too many to count." It seemed to take a lot of effort for him to look back up, "Before the Occupation took over, I was a city planner. 'This building goes here, that one goes there.' Flynn thought is was the coolest thing, what my team and I did."

" _You_ met Flynn?"

"You don't believe me?" Deek shrugged, "I'm skeptical of your Tron story, it's only fair you're questioning of mine." He turned back to the window, "In my defense he never actually said it was 'cool,' everything was always, 'far out, maaaan!'" Beck chuckled, "Yeah, Users are an interesting bunch, which may explain why he picked me."

"Picked you for what?"

"He wanted me to design the housing for the ISOs."

"And you said _my_ story was far fetched."

"Yeah, I didn't believe it either, but," he shooked his head, "we did it." He leaned closer to the window, seeing the ISO city in the buildings of Argon below, "You should have seen it. We put everything into those plans. We gave the ISOs clubs, energy cantinas, disk courts for the Games (they weren't to the death back then). They had it all." He turned away from the window, "Then Clu happened."

Beck suddenly realized he had let go of the controls and quickly adjusted course, "Did you fight in the ISO wars?"

"I don't know if I would call them 'wars.'" His next words seemed difficult, "They lasted only a week before Clu smothered them with his forces."

"Some must have got out?" Beck pointed out, "You're here."

Deek closed his eyes and shook his head, "I said 'they,' not 'us.'" He reached up and pressed something on his arm. Invisible before, now an ISO veteran arm band materialized; Beck recognized it, Cutler had had one just like it. Deek stood a long moment just staring at the band. "I didn't fight, I ran. I ran as far and fast away from the Purge as I could." He pressed the button again and the arm band vanished, "But even though I was leagues away, I could swear I could hear them screaming for help."

The dejected program took a deep breath. "I didn't help them and that's haunted me, Flynn knows, how many cycles. So when I learned that my friends wanted to get out of Argon, I knew I had to help. Help them like I _should_ have help all those cycles ago."

"Deek," the red program met his eye, "We're going to get them back, I promise." There was a pause as the two looked outside to see the Coliseum approaching, "That still doesn't explain how you know hot to fight, though." Beck quipped.

"It's the same reason I know you didn't learn from Tron," Deek gave him a smirk, "Flynn convinced him to teach me and I _know_ he doesn't fight like that."

"Hey!" Beck said, not a little defensive, "he wasn't in the best condition when he trained me. _That's_ why it's different."

"Uh-huh," Deek replied making air quotes, " _sure_." At this point something caught his attention on one the landing platform. It was swarming with guards. "You know that plan I asked you about a while ago? How's it coming?"

Beck rezzed his helmet and punched in the landing sequence on the controls, "Don't worry," he replied re-opening the hatch in the roof.

"You imply the need," Deek grumbled following him.

The door to the observation deck opened and Zed poked his head in. Tron was standing by the window, magnifying different parts of the city below. "Hey , uh, Tron?" Tron glanced over his shoulder and motioned for him to come in. Joint stepping with his crutches, Zed went to stand next to the Uprising's leader, "You wanted to know when Beck got back? He still hasn't yet. He's almost two hours overdue- what are you doing?"

Tron angrily closed the his magnifying window and opened another one, "Looking for him."

"Oh-" Zed got the hint, preferring not to be on Tron's bad side.

Tron sighed and turning, put a hand on Zed's shoulder, "You're fine," they both turned to look out over the buildings and streets, "It's him I'm worried about."

"I have to say," Deek said, peering around a corner, "this is a better plan than I'd thought you'd have."

"Well thanks," Beck had opened a control panel inside the Coliseum and was attempting to hotwire it with his wrench.

"That said," Deek checked the other corner, "it's _still_ not a great plan." Beck gave him a look, "What? It isn't."

Deek couldn't see because of the helmet, but Beck simply rolled his eyes and kept working. He was trying to access the Coliseum's storage manifest. That would tell them where the capture programs were being held. At last, with a twist of a digital dial on the display, the console displayed a hologram of the storage containers. Deek came over and the two combed over the interface, "There," Beck pointed to trio of crates that just happened to be on the same floor as they were.

As they ran towards the room, Deek asked, "What's our exit plan?"

"Same as our entrance plan," they came to the door and Beck got to work on the lock.

"So make it up as we go? Perfect."

"Clu would agree," the last tumbler fell into the place and the door opened.

"Ha ha, very funny-" his faltered though when the door slid back only to reveal the refugees surrounded on all sides by modded black guards. "Ok," both he and Beck drew their disks, "less funny."

"Oh it's hysterical," Pavel emerged from the shadows, "You two are really quite comedic." His eyes glinted with the additional power the mod gave him, "We'll be laughing about this one for ages!" And with that the guards rushed Deek and Beck. But the Renegade was prepared. Just before the soldiers were on top of them, Beck threw a smoke bomb to the floor, leveling the playing field. "Oh you think you're so clever, Renegade." Pavel walked forward, weary, "I don't need to see you to know-" he heard a sound, "- _where you are!_ " Pavel whipped around and slashed his desk at the source of the sound only to lock edges with another black guard. Pavel's eyes widened, " _You!_ "

"What gave it away?" Pavel jabbed with unbelievable speed, but the imposter guard dodged just as quickly.

"Arrrgh!" Pavel swung again and again, but the turncoat guard was just as fast, "Stop. MOVING!"

"All thanks to that mad scientist project of yours," and with that, he dove back into the dense smoke to Pavel's immense frustration.

Meanwhile, Beck and Deek were faring better than they'd hoped. Two programs trained by Tron could accomplish a lot when give the opportunity. It was still an uphill battle, but the reduced visibility tipped in favor of their advanced training over purse strength and speed.

"That's three!" Deek called to Beck.

"Five," Beck wrapped his arm around the neck of the guard he was fighting and flung him to the floor, "I counted twelve guards when we came in."

"That leaves four," Deek replied as he raised his disk to strike, but dropped it seeing it was Beck in the smoke.

"Get your friends out of here, I'll get the rest." Deek nodded and plunged off into the mist. No sooner had he left than a dim figure came running toward Beck, but as he swung at it, the other program limbo style, ducked under blade.

Beck prepared to strike again, but was stopped, "Hang on!" the guard yelled. He lowered his helmet revealing sandy hair, "I'm on your side."

"Who are you?"

"So you're _not_ Tron," the blonde haired program replied, "him and I were old friends."

"Your point?" Beck replied irritable.

"I-" he checked himself, "Curse the MCP, I don't have time. Listen, Pavel managed to make more of...of those whatever they are."

Beck's grip on his disk tightened, "Power mods?"

"Yes, those. But there's a way we can stop him-"

"We?"

"I'll help, but the point is, he can't make anymore of them if you steal the original."

"Where's the original?"

To which the blonde program rezzed his helmet, "behind you." Pavel came flying out of the thick air, disk raised. Beck barely managed to get out the way before the commander's disk slammed into the ground, creating a large hole.

Pavel surveyed Beck and the imposter program, "I might have known you were working together. YAAAH!" Beck was good and but Pavel was fast. For every punch he threw, Pavel could land two more. Fortunately, with the other program's help, they managed to back Pavel into a corner, that was until another modded guard entered the fray. The imposter broke off to deal with the soldier and Beck quickly started losing ground to Pavel. "Power is great thing isn't it?!" Pavel gleefully yelled as he battered Beck backwards, "You can do almost anything! Tesler couldn't get rid of you and he tried for months!" Another blow hit Beck in the head, "And now I'll do it in less than a cycle! HA HA HA HA-"

He was interrupted as a red, grid-lined fist came out of the smoke, making solid contact with Pavel's face, collapsing him to the floor. "Ouch…" Deek emerged from the clogged air, wringing his hand, "he has a hard face."

Beck leaned against the wall to catch his breath, "thanks." After a moment to get his second wind, he asked, "Your friends...?"

"Up top in a recognizer-" the both turned to the door, the sound of boots could be heard in the hallway, "We gotta go."

"Not before…" Beck knelt down and removed the power mod from Pavel's disk. He was about to take the disk itself when one of the remaining guards charged at him from the shadows. Before he got far, the imposter program lept out in front and locked disks with the guard.

"Go. I'll cover ya." Not staying to protest, Deek ran into the hallway. Beck followed, but cast a last glance at the this seemingly random guard who had helped them, "Don't worry, Renegade, we'll met again." The imposter threw off the guard he was fighting and then ran in the opposite direction, toward the oncoming sound of soldiers, "Say hi to Tron for me!" And with that, he disappeared around a corner.

The city lights were distant, nothing but a dim, blue glow from this far in the Outlands. Deek and the other refugees had slipped out of Argon in a recognizer while Beck had led a wild goose chase on his light jet. They had set a rendezvous far from Argon where they now were. All the refugees including Deek had rezzed light cycles, but Beck stood alone.

"You sure you don't want to change your mind?" Beck asked, "we could use a program like you," he looked at the others, "all of you."

Deek looked behind him at the faces of his friends, glad they were safe, "Maybe someday, but now, we just want to be left alone."

Beck, vizor up, sighed, "Alright, are you sure would don't want me to escort you from here?"

Deek shook his head, "No Argon needs you here," he met Beck's gaze, "The _Uprising_ needs you here." Several of the refugees revved their engines, anxious to put more distance between them and the city.

"Good luck out there, Deek."

"Same to you," he nodded to the other programs who took off, leaving just Deek and Beck.

"What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know, I might become a mechanic." They both chuckled, "We want to be left alone, but we're not cowards. If you're ever in Gallium and need a hand, come find us." He added, "Tron." Beck smiled, waving as Deek rezzed his helmet and drove off. Gallium was a long ways off, but Beck was glad to know that if he hadn't necessarily gotten a recruit, he at least had made an ally.


	7. Episode 7: Followed

**Greetings Programs!** **Enjoy this next instalment of the series and don't forget to Read and Review!**

—

Accessing Archived Data…

Mara and Zed's relationship takes an interesting turn…

 _Mara looked away thoughtfully, "True." She looked around and caught sight of Lauren laughing with Dash, "But," she added, "if you hadn't have come we wouldn't have three new recruits," she gestured to the ship, "or a recognizer. Don't worry about Tron, he knows what you did, and yeah, it could be better." She stood on her toes and gave Zed a kiss on the cheek, "but it was still pretty good."_

Link and Raven grow closer…

 _She held her face in her hands, trying not to break down completely. Link didn't know what to do. He didn't want her to cry so he put a hand on her arm to try and comfort her. She put her hand in his and after a moment seemed to feel better._

 _The two sat there for a moment, nothing to disturb them._

While Beck tries to put some distance between him and the Occupation…

" _The Renegade" Pavel shouted, drawing his disk, "You just can't stay away can you?"_

" _That's me," Beck wittily replied, "Always looking for trouble."_

" _Get them! Pavel shouted._

With painful consequences...

" _This is fun-YAAH!" Beck dodged the jab, but Pavel was just too fast. With blinding speed, Pavel roundhouse kicked Beck into the barrier on the edge of the bridge, knocking the air out of him. Beck tried to get up, but Pavel kicked him again, causing Beck to collapse onto the ground. "My, my," Pavel stood over him, "they just don't make rebellious programs like they used to."_

And Tesler and Clu have had enough…

" _I am going to do in a few cycles what has yet to be done in the several months you all have had to fix things," Clu stood before three programs. "This city has gone to the gridbugs as is evidenced by the unfortunate case of your commander Paige."_

" _We will have guards placed at the entrance of every public building, checking the disks of everyone who enters. We will have doubled patrols with the additional soldiers I've brought."_

" _Do whatever you have to do," Tesler growled to his men, "but bring me the Renegade!"_

—

Nox slouched at the controls of the recognizer. His breathing seemed incredibly loud inside of his helmet; he'd forgotten just how much he hated wearing sentry armor. "Did I ever mention how _bad_ of an idea this is?"

"It'll be fine," Beck replied, strapping an extra baton to his leg.

"But this is _a really bad idea_."

"Come on Nox..."

"A terrible…"

"We'll make it through this."

"...dangerous…"

"We'll be alright."

"...stupid idea."

A reassuring hand appeared on his shoulder, "Stop worrying. We'll be fine."

The former sentry gave him a shrewd look, "You've said that," he turned back to the controls, "twice."

The Renegade in white leaned against the cockpit's wall, "Hey, how hard can it be? We land on the launch pad in Purgos. I slip out and place the trackers on the Recognizers. With that, we know where their troop deployments are at anytime. I then sneak off and make my way back to the Hideout on light jet. Meanwhile all you have to do is land us and if anyone asks, you're transporting an empty container back from the Games."

Nox adjusted his hands on the controls, uneasy. "That's if everything goes according to plan."

"Cheer up. What could possibly go wrong?" Nox just rolled his eyes.

The first thing they saw were the runway lights that dotted the edge of the platform. The pulsing orange beacons encircled the formidable lines of Recognizers in the center of the landing pad. Several others were attempting to land as theirs made its descent. They had to wait in building anxiety for their turn to touch down. Despite how nervous he had appeared, Nox's control of the ship was rock steady as he slowly lowered them down onto the platform. Just as they felt the rumble of the twin thruster settling on the surface, they could see an inspection crew coming to meet them. Beck rezzed his helmet and looked to Nox who nodded, "Good luck."

As the pilot's cabin lowered to the ground to greet the inspection team, Beck crept up through the roof hatch and silently climbed down the opposite side of the recognizer. He could hear Nox's voice, distorted by the sentry suit, echoing from the other side of the ship. He knew he needed to get moving, but Beck stayed for a moment. Unable to discern the words of the conversation, he could still tell is was tense by the tone of the inspection team. All of sudden he heard shouts quickly followed by the sounds of disks being drawn. They must have blown Nox's cover. Beck drew his own disk and was just about to reveal his position when he heard the guards stow their weapons. Nox was talking to them in a calm voice although Beck still couldn't hear exactly what he was saying. After several seconds, he heard the guards walking away. Peeking his around the corner of the recognizer, he saw Nox standing at the front of the ship and the inspection team leaving. Without turning in his direction, Nox put his hand behind his back and gave a covert thumbs up. They were in the clear.

Stealing his way across the platform, Beck snuck up to the line of parked recognizers. Using a pair of suction grips, he scaled the underside of the large vessel and towards the top, stuck the tracker in between the two piston joints used for landing. Occupation ships hardly ever needed maintenance; no one would ever think to look here for a tracking device. Beck was just about to start climbing down when he heard voices below. Pulling his body flat against the cold metal, Beck looked down on three guards in conversation.

"So, did you hear what happened?"

"About commander Pavel, yeah."  
"We almost had him."  
"Ram, you mean?"

"Yes," a pause, "We could have used those power mods he destroyed."

"There not _all_ gone."

"I know that, but only 'elite' personal get them. Like that honor guard that's been hanging around here."

"Ug, don't remind me. Still, it _is_ closer to perfection."  
"You say that like it makes it better somehow."

The three troopers wandered out of hearing leaving Beck to think. There was an honor guard here? Raven had told him about them. There had been dozens around when the Uprising had destroyed Able's garage. They were tough, well trained and ruthless. And adding from what Beck had just heard, they now had leftover power mods making them even more dangerous. On alert, Beck checked to make sure the coast was clear, and dashed to the next ship.

Their intel had said there were only forty-eight recognizers on the platform. As Beck planted trackers on each of the ships he began to realize he didn't have enough. He was nearing the end of the row when he counted the number of remaining recognizers, five. He looked at the trackers strapped to his waist, three. He was two short; there were fifty recognizers, not forty-eight. He stuck the last of the devices all the while trying to sort out what he should do. Should he just leave the last two without any trackers? "I mean, it's only two," he thought.

But he heard a voice, Tron's voice, in the back of his mind, "Think further down the line, Beck," Tron would have said, "What is this going to mean in the future?"

Beck rested his chin on his hand, exploring possibilities. If he left the two ships alone, the Uprising wouldn't be able to tell where they were. If somehow the Occupation found out about the tracking devices on the other ships, the could deliberately abuse the Uprising's blindness of the two to strike without warning, catching them off guard. "Ok," Beck stood up, "so I can't just leave you two the way I found you. But what's the alternative?" He crossed his arms as he surveyed the platform. His eyes landed on a black guard not too far away. "Blackguards always carry explosives," Beck said, getting an idea.

The guardsman didn't know what hit him. Beck had leaped from the top of a ship and tackled him to the ground. He had meant to knock the guard out, but the trooper was surprisingly responsive. As Beck fell on top him, the guard, almost as if he knew Beck was coming, rolled out of the hit and back to his feet. Beck stood up just in time to avoid a whizzing disk aimed at his head. "Surrender, Renegade," the guard ordered.

"Come try me-" but the guard was on him before he could finish the sentence. There was a formidable furry in the trooper's attacks that Beck had trouble keeping up with. The speed of the fight increased. He had worried the guard would raise the alarm, but now he was simply concerned with surviving the fight with the lone soldier. They exchanged blows, each hammering away at the other's disk. Beck needed to end the fight and fast, otherwise the sound of their engagement would draw attention. He kept waiting for an opening in the guard's attack, but his form was flawless leaving no room to counter. Lunging with his disk, the guard caught Beck's wrist and flipped him over his shoulder. The impact knocked the air out of him and soldier took the opportunity to kick Beck in the stomach. But Beck curled into a ball, grabbing the guard's foot and holding it against his chest. Caught off balance, the guard put his hand on a crate to steady himself, but Beck yanked his feet out from under him. He pinned the guard down and drove his elbow into his helmet. Panting, Beck got to his feet and pulled a few bombs off the unmoving soldier, but not before he was spotted.

"You there, Stop!" A guard shouted. So much for stealth, Beck thought as he scrambled over a pile of crates to lose his pursuers. Unfortunately, he was only partially successful. A quick hand grabbed his foot, yanking him to the ground, "Halt, Renegade!" Beck instead kicked his foot out, hitting the guard in the head. Taking off at a run, Beck could hear the alarms going off. He looked into the sky but it was too late; he could see Nox's recognizer far in the distance. Even if he had heard the alarms, it would risk too much for him to turn around and try to pick up Beck.

"Looks I'll have to stick with the original plan," Beck thought. With ten soldiers on his tail, he made for the two remaining recognizers and past that, the edge of the platform: his escape.

The knocked out guard woke up with a jolt. Confused, he got to his feet; why were the alarms blaring? His awareness came back with a wash of vertigo as he steadied himself against a nearby create. The Renegade was here. He had fought him. He should have beaten him, too. Stumbling a few steps, he vaguely remembered how he was knocked out, how the Renegade had grabbed his foot and caused him to fall. He had a pulsing headache and putting his hand to his head he noticed his disguise was gone. But he no longer cared about his cover. The Renegade was on site and that was all that mattered.

An explosion came from his right and he turned to see a recognizer smash into the ground, burning and in a shower of voxels. Protecting his head from the raining debris, he looked up just into to see the Renegade making for the edge of the platform. Drawing his disk, he sprinted after him.

"Almost there," Beck told himself as he bolted for the edge, "almost there." He heard a sharp buzzing behind him and instinctively ducked. Rolling back to his feet, he saw the flying disk return to a guard in hot pursuit. It was the same one from earlier only now Beck realized why he had been so tough. With yellow grid lines and a now visible chevron armband, this was an Honor guard. Beck had no doubt he had been given one of the few remaining power mods. The mod gave increased strength and speed and Beck was in no hurry fight someone with that advantage.

With the guard gaining on him, Beck ran between the legs of the last Recognizer and threw the explosive to one of the thrusters. He heard it make contact and only hoped the bomb stuck to the surface like it was supposed to. No sooner had the thought left his mind than the sound of footsteps came up rapidly behind him. An instant later he was tackled to the ground by the Honor guard. Beck planted his foot against the soldier's chest and pushed him off. They got to their feet and were about to square off when the bomb detonated. They were both so close that the blast sent them flying, but luckily Beck had the good sense to angle himself towards the ledge. His air time ended with a thud on the ground, bruising his shoulder. He stood up only to see the Honor guard charging at him, "Does this guy ever let up?" Beck thought begrudgingly. He was soon distracted, however, by what was above the oncoming soldier; the explosive had blown the leg out from under the recognizer which was causing the cockpit, now only supported on one side, to fall towards them.

The Honor guard was almost on him. The Renegade was _not_ going to escape. Not today. He was two strides away when he noticed the vigilante in white was looking past him. He only had a moment to look up at the falling wreckage before it hit. Both he and Beck dove for cover as the smoking remains of the recognizer slammed into the landing platform, engulfing the immediate area in an explosive inferno.

—

TRON Uprising:

Followed

—

For one of the busiest rooms in the Hideout, the observation deck was remarkably tranquil for Raven. The long, uninterrupted curved window gave a breathtaking view of Argon, a fact that in the day-to-day scramble of the Uprising was seldom appreciated. She had originally come up to finish decrypting a set of intercepted messages, but when she had finished, she realize just how loath she was to return to the hectic fray of training and combat exercises. Everyday it was more ambush drills, technique lessons, and endless vehicle practice. Zed had gone a little overboard in the exercises he planned for them. Even as a trained soldier, not even Raven escaped the vehicle combat drills without a score of bruises.

Giving a deep sigh, she pushed the thoughts about training away, they could wait. From the intel they had gathered, the Occupation had been relatively passive these last few cycles. Raven personally was just fine with a lull in the action, but the quiet had made many people restless. Tron had ordered a rest day that cycle to ease the tension, they were all getting a little sick of living in such close quarters with each other. She had initially been glad to have the cycle off, but it wasn't until about an hour later that she realized that without a threat from the Occupation, there wasn't much to do around the place. Her decision to decrypt Occupation missives had been more from boredom than anything else.

The door opened behind her, "Oh, Raven. I didn't know you were up here."

"Hey, Mara. No come in, its fine."

The teal haired program joined her at the window, "I've almost forgotten how beautiful Argon looks from up here."

Raven studied the the cityscape. A lone orange dot passed by. "It'll be even better when the Occupation is gone." Mara assented in silence. She had been one of the few to argue with the order for a day of leave; in Mara's opinion, they needed every moment to get the edge over Clu. She'd said as much to Tron.

"We can't just wait around," she had told him, "we want to-"

"Enthusiasm is good," Tron had said, "but it becomes nothing but recklessness without discipline. It's just as important knowing when to wait as when to fight."

"But Beck and Nox are out there getting information, information that can help us!"

Tron had been stoic, "And when they get back, there will be plenty to do." His expression had then softened, "Get some rest. Talk with your friends, the Uprising is nothing if we don't trust each other."

His last remark had been rather cryptic now that Mara thought about it, but not wanting to press the point beyond reason, she had let the matter drop. "So," Raven's voice pulled her back to the present, "you have anything planned for today? Anything with Zed?"

"Not especially," she turned to the ex-soldier with a raised eyebrow, "What do you mean 'with Zed?'"

"Link and I might do something and I was just curious if you and Zed wanted to come."

Mara put her hands, "We're not a- don't think that we're a…" This time it was Raven's turn to raise an eyebrow. "We're just good friends. But did he-I mean- did someone say something?" Despite herself, she couldn't keep the trace of eagerness out of her voice.

Raven shrugged, "No. It was just an invitation. Beside I don't even _know_ what we're doing." she added with a chuckle.

Looking for change of subject, "So," Mara asked, "You and Link. Are you two…?"

Raven just looked at her,"...yeah?"

"You know," Mara suddenly felt very uncomfortable, "a…'thing?'"

The other program just smiled, "A 'couple?'"

"Yeah!" Mara replied, relieved for some reason that she hadn't been the one to say it.

Untouched, Raven casually turned back to the window, "Yes. It's nice to have someone to talk to." There was long pause and Mara felt the awkward tension was so thick she could cut it with her disk. They were eventually saved when the door opened again. Both female programs turned to see Link enter.

"Hey Raven-oh," he stopped at seeing Mara, "Did I interrupt something?"

"Nah," Mara assured him, "we were just talking about Ze-" she caught herself, "we were talking about Beck." Raven shot her a sly look, but Mara ignored her, "Just wondering when he's going to get back."

Yeah," Link replied, "he and Nox have been gone a while." He turned to Raven, "You ready to go?"

"Yup," she replied, joining him at the door. As they left, she called back to Mara, "Have fun with Zed!" she said with a grin.

"I'm not-" but the door had already closed, leaving Mara alone with her half finished reply.

000

The scrap dumpster moved when Beck ducked behind it to change out of his Tron white. He only hoped no one was watching him. He removed his disk and twisted the white section off. Stowing it, he put his normal disk back on and watched as his suit dissolved back to black. Standard Grid attire. Although hiding in a narrow alleyway where he could see both ends, Beck had kept his vizor up when changing disks. He couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.

He ducked out of the dark corridor into the thin crowd of people walking the streets of Purgos. Ever since Pavel had culled the population of the city, the few who remained were not allowed to leave. Fewer still would dare venture out of doors at all and when they did, they kept their gaze firmly locked on the streets beneath their feet. What was there to look up for? Many wore hoods and helmets that obscured their faces, so Beck's incognito appearance was hardly out of the norm. The once sprawling city of refuse and crime now was unsettlingly pristine. At every corner, ever boulevard, at the door of every home and club were repurposed guards standing vigil. And he had thought the Occupation's presence in Argon was oppressive, these people couldn't so much as breathe without a guard jumping them. Beck's stomach turned; one day he'd make all this right, one day the Uprising would make all this right. But until then, he put his head down and quickened his pace. He still needed to get out of the city.

Beck had only been to Purgos a handful of times before Clu had come to Argon. After that, he had kept his visits to an absolute minimum. Now he was beginning to regret it. The unfamiliar byways and paths were a complete puzzle to him and his journey outwards of the city center was frustratingly tedious. Unlike Argon, Gallium, or Bismuth, Purgos seemed to have no rhyme or reason to its layout. Streets twisted into one another, traffic lanes that went one way nonsensically merged into others going the opposite direction, roads with a full four lanes on a map, in the reality were nothing more than narrow streets barely big enough for a pedestrian. Despite however cruel the Occupation was in taming the wild city, it seemed they could do nothing to straighten it out.

Yet, no matter how many bizarre streets, avenues and boulevards Beck traversed to get to the city's edge, he couldn't shake the sense of prying eyes. Several times he had stopped to look behind him, but no one readily presented themselves. He'd even ducked into a side street to see if his phantom pursuer would follow. But nobody came. As Beck reached the mid rim of the city, his growing sense of paranoia had become unbearable. He almost wished he _was_ being followed, at least then he could try to confront whoever this program was. The roads being too narrow to use a light cycle, Beck had to hike his way out of the city on foot. When the mission had first been proposed by Tron, it had come with a strict warning not to use his light jet. Beck didn't need to ask why. The heavy Occupation presence here would have shot down any flight in a bit-beat. No one was allowed a light jet here and any unauthorized take offs were blown out of the sky, no questions asked.

He rounded a corner only to quickly duck behind it again. A large column of sentries were marching down the avenue. Even though he was disguised, Beck didn't feel like taking the risk. Doubling back, he found a narrow side street where the buildings had fire escapes. Grabbing the bottom rung of the nearest ladder, he made for the roof. The open air greeted him at the top and with no one around, Beck lowered his helmet for a moment to take a rest. Perched on the ledge of the building, he looked out over the abused city. Several recognizers in the distance took off, their faint rumbling echoing through the labyrinth like streets below.

For a while Beck merely sat there, enjoying the view. For a city that had once been a slime hole and now was the embodiment of Clu's iron grip, it was remarkable beautiful. Playful nightclub signs dotted the concave metropolis, spiraling around the central platform down in the center where bright, bold spot lights filled the misty air with luminous clouds. He remembered that Purgos had once been an artist district, devoted to cultivating creativity and free formed expression. Although the programs had changed, the city hadn't. In a way that was its own form of resistance, remaining beautiful in the face of Clu's stoic perfection. The cool breeze complimented the view and Beck couldn't help but remember a similar scene from back in Argon. He and Paige had gone out on a, well, a _something_ , he still wasn't sure what to call that night. The way she'd looked in the dim glow of the city lights, his mounting hope she would see the evil of the Occupation and join them; that night had been good. Beck pushed the thought away as he got to his feet. She was dead. There was no point lamenting over something he couldn't change however much he wanted to.

There was a soft clink behind him and Beck rezzed his visor on instinct. Turning, he saw nothing. It was just an empty rooftop- there! It had been a mere flicker, but he had seen it. A small sliver of an orange grid suit had ducked behind a vent outlet. So he _was_ being followed, Beck thought. On a hunch he'd say it was the Honor guard from the platform. The soldier got points for determination, if nothing else.

Spinning around, Beck sprinted toward the opposite roof's edge and took a leap onto the neighboring building. The sound of pounding footsteps behind let him know the guard had given up any pretense of remaining covert. He came to the next ledge and dove over the gap onto another roof. The thud of the guard's pursuit was uncomfortably close and Beck realized that with the power mod, the Honor guard would catch him in no time. He had to loose him and fast. There was no way he could get back to street level without attracting attention from more soldiers, but running across the rooftops wasn't any better. He needed a way to redirect the guard's attention for just a few seconds, then he could sneak back to ground level and disappear. But the roofs were too open, there was no place Beck could go without being in direct line of sight. Then again, maybe he could use that to his advantage.

Beck leapt another building with the honor guard close behind. The soldier was less than four meters away and in less than a minute, he would have him. Under other circumstances, the guardsman might have felt some satisfaction, but considering the Renegade had blown up two recognizers and nearly escaped, his capture would be the only thing to prevent the guard from being sent to the Games. Not that he feared the games, with the power mod, he was unstoppable; he could defeat any combatant with his hands tied behind his back. Under his helmet, the soldier's expression hardened; maybe Clu already knew that, that the Games would be an insufficient punishment. Such a thought brought more unsavory ideas to mind. He shook his head. It wouldn't come to that. The Renegade was his.

Two meters to go. Just as he was debating whether to lunge at the rogue program and close the distance then and there, the Renegade suddenly turned and dove off the side. The move was unexpected, his target had been moving in a linear path for entirety of the chase, why jump off here? The answer shot up out of the alleyway as a light jet blasted past him. A light jet? Was this program an idiot? He wouldn't make it five leagues before being shot out of the sky. Rezzing his own baton, the Honor guard flew up into the air after him, intent on bringing the other jet down himself.

Beck hung onto a window ledge, not willing to move until he was sure it had worked. His decoy jet shot up and…there went the soldier, trailing after. Beck had rezzed his light jet without getting on it; the guardsman was following an empty vehicle. He watched the two until they were at a safe altitude before hoisting himself up through the window. With any luck, he could put some significant distance between them before the guard realized the ploy. He would exit the building on the other side, doubling back in the direction they'd come; the last thing the guard would expect was from him to head back _into_ the city.

He took a step and immediately knew something was off. The floor had a rickety feel to it, giving ever so slightly under his feet. "Great," Beck mumbled. Although Purgos was a glistening image of perfection on the outside, that didn't mean the interior of the buildings was any less seedy. And by the look of the flood plate under him, Beck must have sneaked into of the seediest joint in town. The metal used for the floor was obviously cheap with a thick layer of grime coating the slick surface. But what concerned Beck more was the profound corrosion everywhere. It was bad, there were several large holes in the material and Beck could dimly make out what looked like programs dancing on the floor below him.

By all accounts, the place had the appearance of a night club, not that it mattered, he needed to find a way out of the building. He didn't want to risk exiting through the same window as he'd entered through, what if the guard was watching? On the other hand, there was another window at the opposite end of the corridor. He put a tentative foot forward, if he could just-

But there was no "just". Under the slight pressure of his extended foot, the floor gave way. With all his weight leaning forward, Beck crashed through the decaying boards and tumbled down and down as a multi colored floor came up to meet him. He slammed into the ground with a loud _crack_ and blacked out.

000

"So," Raven asked as she and Link walked toward the training floor, "What did you want to do?"

Linked paused for a moment, "I was hoping we," he stopped only to sigh, "I was hoping we could practice some more. You know, since we'll have the training floor all to ourselves."

Raven frowned. More training? Was that what he really wanted to do on their day off? She was so tired of the rigor of combat drills, both doing and teaching them that the Uprising's rest day had been a welcomed respite. To hear that Link wanted to spend their time off doing _more_ of that was not only unexpected, but irritating as well. "You want to do training?" she did her best to keep her annoyance out of her voice.

Link looked slightly offended, "Well, we don't have to," he replied as the two entered the combat room, " _I_ thought it would nice."

There were many other words Raven thought to call it, but restrained herself. If it was important to Link, then it was what it was, not that she was any happier about it. "Alright," Raven replied rather shortly, "What simulation did _you_ want to run?"

"There isn't one _you_ want to do?"

Raven crossed her arms, "No."

Link looked like he was about to say something, but quickly clenched his mouth shut. He wordlessly turned to the console and rather forcefully punched in a request. The room began to digify into an urban landscape set on the side of a large skyscraper. Wispy synthetic clouds floated above their heads, illuminated by the generated city glow from several stories below. "Is this fine?" Link asked, his tone tight.

"It's fine" Raven replied.

"Because I can change it-"

"I said, it's _fine_ ," she cut him off. The sooner they finished this, the sooner she might be able to _actually_ enjoy the rest of their day off.

"Fine," Link curtly replied.

"Fine," Raven said, "Are you ready to start, yet?" Link just drew his disk and got into a ready stance. _I guess that answers that_ , Raven thought. She took several steps away to give them ample room, then drew her own disk. An automated voice came from overhead in the simulated environment.

"Combatants, are you ready?"

"Yes," Link said. Raven simply nodded.

"Beginning exercise 96 in three...two...one." And the two went at it.

000

Beck's eyes snapped open. He bolted upright, but a firm hand pushed him back onto the mat he was laying on. "Stay, you were injured," a silken voice said. He turned to see it was a white siren.

"Who are you?" Beck demanded. He glared at the female program through his vizor, which he was glad was still up. She didn't answer him, instead giving him a curious look accompanied by a whim smile. There was something haunting in the way she held her head. Beautiful, yes, but also unsettling. "I said, who are you?" Beck repeated, shrugging her hand off.

"The question is my boy, who are you?" Turning his head, Beck saw another program enter the room. He was flamboyantly dressed with a glass cane, long white hair, and an electric smile. He was twirling a white disk in his left hand and Beck's eyes widened as he reached for his back.

"Yours is where you left it," the stylish program said, "I only thought this," holding up the Tron disk, "was rather interesting." Beck got up, but the siren placed her hand on his arm. Beck was about to push her off when the other program waved to her and she let go.

"I'll be needing that back," Beck said, taking the white disk from the classy program.

"Of course," the other replied, "Although I'm curious as to _what_ it is"

"You didn't check my disk?"

"No peeking," the other program held a palm over his chest and raised his other hand, "I solemnly swear."

"Right…" Beck's tone was skeptical, the strange program didn't seem to notice. He stuck out his hand.

"The names Castor, formerly Quix."

"You changed your name?" Beck raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Castor's tone was cautious, "not the first time I've had to I'm afraid, although this instance was for more 'professional' reasons. You see," he crossed over the female program, "business has been rather...inconvenient what with the heavy Occupation presence in Argon at the moment. I run a series of nightclubs and thought a change of scenery would be...beneficial."

"So you chose Purgos?" Beck remarked, amused.

"'Chose' is a rather strong word." Castor leaned on his cane, "I had places open here since before Clu came to be high and mighty."

"Really?" Beck replied, genuinely interested.

"Oh yes, really," there was that electric smile again, "This place was scintillating back then. Things eventually went down hill, but my clubs were still the toast of the town, even if the town had gone to voxels."

Beck was about to ask another question, but thought better of it. He still had to get out of Purgos. "See you around," he said as he made for the door.

"You're trying to leave, aren't you?" Beck stopped at threshold, his stance asking the question, "A lot of programs are trying to, yours truly included." Castor sat down calmly on a colorful couch, "Problem is, I bet you have no idea where you are."

"If your offering help," Beck turned again to the exit, "Thanks, but no thanks."

He was already out in the street when Castor spoke from the doorway, "I have a map." Beck stopped, thinking. A map would make his escape easier as well as giving the Uprising some much needed intel on Purgos. But something about Castor and his siren companion felt off. They were too friendly. Adding to that, Beck didn't entirely believe that Castor hadn't looked at his disk. But a map was a map and Tron would be wondering why he hadn't reported back on time if he didn't get out of the city sooner rather than later. He turned back to the club entry way in which stood the two strangers; Castor's grin was gone, replaced by a wary expression.

"How good of a map?" Beck asked.

"Excellent," Castor flashed his smile, "Clu himself couldn't find fault with it."

"One other question," Beck crossed his arms, "Why help me?"

Castor's face tightened and his tone grew serious, "I don't have to check your disk, my friend, to guess who you are." He extended his hand, in it was a small, round device. He pushed the middle of it with his thumb and a holo display of the city's layout appeared. Pressing it again and turning off the display, Castor offered it to Beck.

The Renegade wordlessly accepted it and began to walk away when he turned around to ask the strange duo, "You never said how _you_ planned on getting out of Purgos."

"Don't worry about us," Castor faintly smiled, "we'll make it out just fine."

Beck didn't linger. With a last glance at his bizarre benefactor, he ducked into the passing crowd, keeping his map hidden as he made his way outward of the city center.

"He won't make it far," Gem said.

"That hardly needs saying," Castor grimly replied. "Find the honor guard. The one who came by earlier." He turned back into the defunct club, "In exchange for safe passage out of Purgos, tell him we can help him find the Renegade."

000

Zed leaned against the wall, watching Raven and Link go at it from the observer's window. He had gone to training floor to try to practice (there being nothing else to do) when the computer had told him it was currently in use. Upon entering the observer's room, he had seen who it was and had stayed to watch the fight. He wasn't disappointed. Raven's skill and experience clearly showed in how she anticipated and countered Link's jabs, but Link himself wasn't so too bad, either. The lanky, timid program Zed had known back in the garage had learned a thing or two and was actually managing to stand his ground against Raven's expert assaults, a fact that didn't escape her notice. Link wasn't quick, but he was patient, waiting out Raven's quick blows until he saw an opening. She'd push him to the edge of the platform and just when it looked like she had him beat, he'd juke around her toward the center of the arena.

Zed had seen him do this three of four times and it was looking like it was about to happen again when the door to the observer's deck slid open. "Oh Zed," Mara said, "I'm sorry, I just came down because…"

Zed knowingly smiled, "Because there's nothing else to do?"

"Yeah. Can I join you?"

"Sure, I mean there's not much to join. I've just been watching them practice."

She went to stand next to him at the window. There was a silence. A long silence. The only sound the two heard was the muffled disk clashes coming from the other side of the glass. Mara dared a glance at Zed. His eye met hers and they both turned away, embarrassed. She felt like she needed to say something, start a conversation, _talk_. The nebulous quiet between them was laden down by the sheer awkwardness of their meeting. "So…" she cast about for something to say, "Link seems to be doing better."

Zed sounded grateful, "Yeah, I guess all that training with Raven payed off."

"Maybe even more than that," she stepped closer to the window, "he seems to be doing almost as good as she is right now. Flynn knows we could use some more fighters like those two."

"Yeah," Zed replied glumly, "More fighters like them..."

Mara resisted the urge to facepalm, _His leg, don't talk about fighting_ , "I'm sorry Zed-"

"It's fine," he said, even though his tone suggested otherwise.

Down on the combat floor, Raven threw another jab at Link who, again, dodged away. _Alright_ , she thought, _I'm tired and we've been practicing long enough. I'll beat him and then we can be done_. She felt somewhat guilty about wanting to beat Link just to stop practicing, but she prefered that over just telling him she didn't want to do it anymore. Or even more bluntly, that she had never wanted to do it at all. She had been going easy at first, then when Link had shown he could fight her easily enough, she had upped her game to a moderate level of effort. She hadn't want to crush him at the outset and so she had played to his strengths, swinging her disk high to give him time to react, not pressing her advantage every time he gave her an opening, and letting him duck away from the edge whenever she pushed him too close. But the time for going easy was over, she just wanted to finish.

Raven whipped her disk at him, underhanded this time. The simulation prevented their cutting edges from activating so she wasn't worried about actually hurting him, but her attack was forceful enough to get the point across. Only, she never made contact. He side-stepped her swing and brought his disk down toward her back. She only had time to duck under it and sweep his feet, trying to knock him down. He fell, but quickly performed a kip-up and regained his footing. Raven launched an assault on him, just trying to land a blow, but he impressively kept out of her reach.

It was quick and she didn't see it coming. Frustrated, she had thrown a punch and over extended her reach. Link deftly stuck his hand through the hole in her disk and pulled it out of her grip. At the same time, he knocked Raven's front foot out from under her causing her to fall forward. She hit the ground and was about to roll to her feet when a buzzing near her ear stopped her. Turning slowly, she looked up at Link who stood over her, a disk in each hand.

Link lowered his helmet, showing a shy smile, "Not bad, right?" His smiled dropped, however, when Raven took her desk back and stormed out of the room. He watched her leave, not knowing what he'd done.

Up on the observation deck, Zed and Mara watched as Raven stalked out of the training floor.

"What is he doing?" Zed said. Even after Raven had left, Link just stood still in the middle of the room. Zed frowned, then looked at Mara, "There's a microphone in here, isn't there?"

"Yeah?" Mara replied. What did Zed want with the announcer's mic?

"Help me find it," Zed tapped one of the desks in the room and a desktop of sorts popped up. He began searching for the mic icon. When Mara didn't join in, he gave her a glance, "Are you going to help me?"

"Help you with what?" Mara asked, confused.

Zed gestured to Link, "The poor guy's clueless, I just want to give him a helping hand." He's not the only one, Mara thought, but quickly joined Zed at the controls.

Link was still thinking about what had just happened when a loud voice nearly scared half to death.

"Hey, uh, Link?"

Link turned to the observation room, "Who is-is that you Zed?"

"Yup. Now get moving."

"Get moving? I don't understand-"

It was Mara's voice this time, "Go after her, you bit!"

Link slapped himself in the face, "Oh, yeah, right," flustered he went one way, realized the entrance was the other way, then turned and sprinted out the door.

"Good luck," Zed said as he and Mara watched Link rush out of the room, "Do you think he's got a chance?"

"Maybe…" Mara replied, "I hope so he does."

"Yeah," Zed thought looking at Mara, "I hope I do too."

000

Check the left corner. No one. Check the right corner. One guard. Go left.

Beck had followed the map as closely as possible, but there were times when a patrol or squad blocked the shortest route to the city's edge. He was closer now, with only a couple streets between him and the outlands. Unfortunately, as the buildings thinned toward Purgos' outer rim, security had increased. Beck understood why, the edge was where programs would most likely make a break for it and escape the encamped city. Posting more troops here was a precaution against any escapee attempts. "They thought of everything," Beck grumbled. He was tired and his feet were sore from walking so much, but it was just this one last hurdle and then smooth sailing on a light cycle back to the Hideout.

He had been sizing up the last security checkpoint between him and the winding canyons of the outlands. From what he could tell, the checkpoint had twenty plus armed guards, two recognizers patrolling in and around the area, and an impressive fleet of tanks lining the city limits. If he was spotted, they could blast his voxels all the way to Tron City with all that firepower.

Gulping down his rising anxiety, Beck took an opening in a pair of spotlight search patterns. He was making progress towards a gap he'd seen in the tank line. It was slow going, ducking between small pieces of cover, sometimes for minutes, other times for fractions of a heartbeat before the guards turned back towards his position. He was currently hiding behind a large chunk of rubble, Beck guessed it was the result of the last time those tanks had had to fire at something. Or more likely a someone. Peeking over the debris, he surveyed the last line of guards, studying for an opening. A sinking feeling began to grow the longer he watched, there were no openings. The last line of soldiers were triple those of the others with six soldiers pacing the gate. Beck could discern no break in their field of vision, no place to slip between them. What was worse, one of the troopers was an honor guard which meant he'd be stronger and faster if he had to engage them.

Beck slumped back behind the piece of rubble. How was he going to do this? Maybe he could make his way down, moving parallel to the tank line until he saw another gap. But there was no guarantee there would even _be_ another one. This might be the only one in the entire city and even if there was another, it might be a dozen leagues away. Beck rested his head back and groaned, the last thing he wanted to do was walk any more. The more valid concern, however, was the more often he moved, the greater chance he would get spotted. Was that a chance he was willing to take?

He pulled his head up at the sound of nearby conversation, "Twelve guards for outer perimeter patrol."

"Clear."

Beck craned his head out of his hiding place just in time to see a squad of guardsmen file through the gate. They didn't have the bulky shoulder pads of senties so they must have been simple infantry with their only weapons being a stun staffs. Beck had seen several squads just like this one march through the checkpoint while he made his approach. They seem to come and go every thirty micros like clockwork. Ducking back behind cover, Beck pulled out his disk and opened the appearance menu. If he could temporarily switch his gridlines to orange, then he might just have a plan.

000

A double file line of troops marched towards the gate. One of the patrolling guards noticed there were thirteen of them, an odd number. The soldier frowned. The Occupation didn't do "odd." What was more, the final program in line didn't carry a stun staff. The trooper watched with narrowed eyes, scrutinizing the formation's member. There it was! Was he sure he saw it? Yes, yes there it was. The final soldier in the line had taken not one, but _two_ steps out of sync with the rest. That was unacceptable.

"Halt program," the thirteenth member stopped, but the other twelve kept marching. "Present your disk," he asked the odd man out. The program coolly drew his disk and handed it over. "Assignment files. I don't see an assignment to this gate in your-" the program had him in ahead lock. If he could just...just… he was...tired...vision…vision going...black

Beck dragged the unconscious soldier behind a building and took his stun staff. Now he truly looked the part. Stealing along an alleyway, he caught back up with the squad and joined their formation. He knew he still stood out, the group marched in sets of two which left him alone in the back, but he hoped that one extra soldier wouldn't raise anyone's suspicions.

They were past the fourth patrol. Only one more to go. The group came to a halt in front of the gate as two soldiers, one of whom was the honor guard, came to the front of the squad. They asked who Beck assumed to be the squad leader a couple questions, ticking checkboxes on datapads. And just like that, they were marching again. Beck resisted the temptation to look over his shoulder as they crossed underneath the gate into the outlands' patrol area, had that been really that easy? Soon after, the two columns of soldiers split up, taking opposite directions to patrol. No one noticed as a lone program slipped away into the darkness. At least, that's what Beck hoped.

000

"And then I was like, woosh! Pew pew pew!" several programs lounged around in one of the Hideout's commons areas. Most were sitting or resting on couches, listening to Dash retell their mission to blow up Able's garage and destroy the repurposer inside. "Jet and I were up in the air, firing down on them," Dash again initiated the sound of the laser canons on their light jets, "Pew pew, kaboom! There must have been two dozen, no, thiry guards on the ground and we got them all!"

Katie, who was sitting at a table nursing a glass of energy, gave Dash an amused, doubtful look. She turned to Jet who was also sitting at the table, "Did that really happen, Jet? I mean, there was only two of you guys."

All eyes were on Jet. He nonchalantly ran a hand over his short black hair, "It wasn't just the two of us, there were a couple other guys," The excitement in the room deflated. Took another sip of her drink, disappointed.

He caught Dash's eye. His friend was trying hard not to object, but his expression was almost beggerly, saying, "C'mon man, let me have this one." Jet slyly glanced between Dash and Katie and almost laughed. It was always about the girl.

"But," Jet added and everyone turned back to him, "I think there were more than thirty guards."

"Oh please," Katie replied, her finger absently twirling the liquid in her glass.

"No, I'm serious." Jet around in his chair to face Dash, "It was more like _fifty_ soldiers, wasn't it?" He winked at Dash.

There were audible oohs and ahs from the assembled programs. More important to Dash, Katie now had her eyes on him, listening with interest. Dash gave Jet a brief grin and continued, "Yeah it _was_ fifty guards done below. But it gets better, we even saved Tron!"

"No way," Katie said.

"Way," Jet replied.

"Me and Jet were shooting down on the troops, making sure they couldn't take off," Dash used his hand to illustrate the two light jets, "We've got them pinned when Jet points out a couple of dueling programs on the waterfront. 'Tron's in trouble!' Jet yells and we both-"

"Raven!" All heads turn in confusion they hear someone yelling in the hallway, "Raven!" Suddenly, Link pokes his head into room, his eyes quickly scanning faces, "No, she's not in here." Just as quickly as he came, Link darts back out. They can hear him running further down the corridor.

Dash is still looking at the doorway in confusion when Katie spoke up, "Then what happened?" As Dash continued his story, Link pounded done the halls. He checks each room, trying to find Rave, but all he's gotten are shrugs and vague directions. He checked several girls if she was in the female program's bunk room, but they said she wasn't. Next he had checked the commons rooms, but again nothing. At the end of the hall were the steps leading up to the observation deck. It was the last place he could think to look for her.

He took the stairs quickly, slipped, fell down them, then mounted them again, all the while trying to figure out what he'd done wrong. Had it been something he'd said? Maybe it was the training exercise, should it have been a different one? He personally hadn't really wanted to train today, but if Raven wanted to do it, then he was alright with it. So why had she stormed off like that? The doors to the Hideout's Observation Deck slid open and Link stepped through only to find that Raven was not here either.

Link crossed to the large windows and looked out. What had supposed to have been a nice day for him and Raven had completely fallen apart. She was angry and he didn't know why. He watched the pulsing lights of Argon with an air of melancholy, there were only a few hours left in the cycle, then it was sleep and back to the grind of the Uprising. If he could find her, he would apologize, for what he didn't know, but he'd find out and make it write. That was making the big assumption he actually _found_ her before the cycle was over.

Dense and firm footsteps came up behind him. Link didn't even need to look to know who it was. "Hey Tron." Flynn's Champion didn't respond, "I could really use your help."

"If you're looking for Raven, I don't know where she is either."

Link's shoulders slumped. "So much for our day off." He caught Tron giving him a questioning look, "It's complicated, I'm not even really sure what happened myself."

"Mm," Tron acknowledged, "There's still some time left in the cycle." He turned to leave, but not before adding, "Don't give up just yet." Link heard the doors close and turned back to window.

"'Don't give up just yet,'" Link echoed Tron's words. Where was there left to look? He had- something flickered outside on the snow covered plateau. Link pressed his face to glass, squinting. It was someone running, no wait, they were resizing a light jet. Who-? Raven. Link spun on his heels and bolted for the doors. He had to get airborne before she was too far away.

000

The loud hum of an ion engine reverberated through the canyons. Beck was pushing his cycle to the max to cut time. He had missed his scheduled check in hours ago and he didn't want Tron or anyone else to risk getting caught by looking for him. Thus far he was making good time, having found several short cuts in the route he had initially chosen to get back to Hideout. Zed had augmented his light cycle with a compass to help him navigate the maze of canyons that criss-crossed the outlands. The compass was tuned to the mountain where the Uprising took shelter which helped; the mountain was visible for leagues in every direction. The original plan was to return on light jet, but he'd used his only jet baton to distract the honor guard leaving him with only his bike. It wasn't all bad, most of the terrain was surprisingly smooth, making the trip more comfortable than Beck would have expected. Still, getting back on his bike would mean it would take even longer to reach the base. Beck had resigned himself to the fact and simply focused on riding as fast as possible.

There was rarely a straight path in the outlands. The closest thing were passages that gradually curved to the left or the right, but these were few and far between. Often at the speeds Beck was going at, it meant quick turn after quick turn, threading consecutive narrow gaps, and the constant dipping and rising of the path. Tired as he was, he had to stay alert, one wrong move while going this fast and he'd pave the canyon floor in cubes. And it nearly happened. As he rounded another corner, he spotted what looked like a ramp. An elevated piece of rock that jutted out of the ground. Going too fast to stop, Beck was forced gun it over the ramp. He was glad he had. Hurtling through the air, he only got a glance at what he'd just jumped over and saw a long dark chasm below him. His momentum had been barely enough to make it to the other side, unfortunately the path took a hard right immediately in front of him. He activated his speed flaps and jammed the breaks, but he knew it wouldn't be enough and braced for the impact.

Beck's bike slammed into the rock wall. The sound of crushed stone and shattering plastic bounced around the canyon in a loud retort. A few yards away, Beck picked himself up off the ground. The slam had knocked him off the cycle and all things considered, he had escaped with only a few bruises and road burns. The crash had also cracked his helmet and Beck lowered so he could better see the damage.

"Fractured chasie, one or two engine cylinders dented," Beck pulled his bike, which had been lying on its side, upright only to have it fall back over again, "And at least one of the stabilizers. Great." With a sigh, Beck took out his wrench and plugged it into the light cycle. He didn't need to repair everything, just enough to get the bike rideable so he could drive back to base. Keeping that in mind, he mentally crossed off what didn't need fixing. The cycle's broken body didn't need immediate repair, they could stand a short trip. The engine cylinders, too could wait, Beck could route the power through the remaining ones in the engine. It put immense strain on the bike to do that, but he couldn't spend the four to five micro cycles taking the dents out by hand. What did need fixing were the stabilizers. You could ride a cycle without them, but given the tricky terrain in the outlands, he needed them for their added grip and handling.

He was finished in a matter of micros, this kind of damage having been what the mostly fixed back in Able's garage. It took a few extra revs to get the engine going, but it stayed steady once running. Beck pushed the throttle forward as far as he dared with his makeshift repairs and was off. But he hadn't gone far when heard something. The sound of cracking plastic and the screeching of twisting metal. It was the same sound _his_ bike'd made when it had hit the wall. That meant there was another rider out here. It meant he had been followed.

Flynn's disk the honor guard was angry. He had successfully tracked the Renegade all the way through and out of Purgos only to have the give away his presence now. He had watched the Renegade make the jump, so his cycle had survived the sharp turn on the other side better than his prey's had. It had still make loud noise and unless the rogue program hadn't heard him over the din of his own engine, the Honor guard was sure he had been made. The only course of action left was to apprehend the Renegade and bring him in for questioning.

It turned out it wouldn't be so easy.

The Honor guard followed a trail of leaking energy from the other damaged bike only to find it end in a small opening in the canyon wall. Beyond lay a labyrinth of narrow corridors and passages. A maze within a maze. If he wanted the Renegade, he would have to find in that mess of halls. Admittingly the move was a clever one, this gave the rogue program a more level footing with the enhanced Honor guard. But two could play at this game.

000

Link was more than nervous. He had followed Raven's light jet for what seemed like forever. The tall mountain that marked the Hideout was far in the distance behind them, a distance that made Link uncomfortable. To be so far from base without being on a mission felt weird, but there were more important things to consider. Both his and Raven's light jets were the same model so neither was any faster than the other. The best Link could do was maintain the distance between Raven's jet and his until she landed. He was worried she would never land, but was relieved when she finally descended towards the scattered canyons of the outlands.

The alighted on a small plateau and didn't seem to notice Link land behind her. He could see her torso and shoulders tense with frustration. She stood there silently venting her anger into the lonesome air. This was first time it occured to Link that maybe talking with her all the way out here might not be such a good idea. It might just make her more angry knowing that he'd followed her instead of giving her space. But it was too late for that now. And so, with a deep breath, he crossed over to her.

She must have heard his footsteps as she turned to him before he spoke. Facing her made it even harder to say something and for a long moment, he didn't. Raven's initial glare slowly gave way one of abashment.

"Today went well..." she said.

"Yeah," Link rubbed the back of his neck, thinking, how was he supposed to do this? Honestly. He'd do it honestly. "Listen, I should have told you, I-I didn't really want to train today."

"You _didn't?_ " Her tone carried a hint of exasperation, "Then why did you suggest it?!"

"I don't know," Link looked away, "I thought it's what _you_ wanted to do."

"Did it ever occur to you to _ask_ me what I wanted?" Reven shot back.

"That's why I suggested it! Because that's what I thought you _did_ want to do today!"

Raven threw up her hands, "But you still didn't ask!"

Link frowned, "Fine, I didn't ask. Buy why then didn't you _tell me_ you didn't want to do it?"

She shot him a look, "Because I thought it's what _you_ wanted to do."

" _Me?_ " Link replied, surprised.

"Yes, you," Raven shivered and hugged herself for warmth. It was unusually cold out here. "You're always so focussed getting better, training more that I didn't give a second thought to if that's what you wanted to do."

"Really?" Link almost smiled, "I always saw you as this amazing fighter. You always know what to do, how to react to stuff. It seemed like you enjoyed it so much that I didn't want to ruin it by saying _I_ didn't like it."

Raven opened her mouth to say something, but paused. She met Link's eye with a humorously confused expression, "Did we just compliment each other?"

Link grinned, "I think we did," his smile waned as he crossed over to her. "Sorry?"

"Sorry," she leaned in to give him a kiss, but a flash in her peripheral vision stopped her short, "Link…" He turned around to see what she was looking at and there it was again, bright flashes. There was a sound too, like the clashing of disks.

000

This was not good. Beck had jumped the Honor guard from around a corner, knocking his disk out of the soldier's hand. As it turned out, he was plenty dangerous without it. With lightning speed, he had planted a kick into Beck's stomach sending him flying. He had rolled to his feet, but realized the blow had knocked the guard's disk out of his hand. The trooper had picked it up and let loose on Beck, his disk a mere trail of light zig-zagging through the air.

Now Beck was on the backfoot, doing everything in his power to simply stave off the Honor guard's onslaught. But he was tired from traveling all day and that combined with his injuries from the earlier crash put him at even more of a disadvantage than before. He was pure defense, giving up ground at every attack, anything to keep the blindingly fast soldier from derezzing him. He risked a glance over his shoulder, the Honor guard was backing him into a corner, soon he'd have Beck pinned and there would be nothing he could do about it. His brief lapse in attention cost him as the soldier landed another firm kick that sent Beck sailing backwards, right into the corner he'd just seen.

"It's over," the guardsman said. Beck couldn't but agree. He had nothing left in him. The Honor guard took a step forward to finish the job, but was rebuffed as a new disk ricocheted near his feet causing him to take a few steps back. The disk rebounded upward to its owner, a tall female program with a lean but powerful build. Next to her was a slim but toned male program who also had his disked revved. Both program wore their visors up, a fact the Honor guard only had seconds to note as both program descended on him.

Raven landed with a roll and launched her disk at the soldier. He deflected it easily, but then had to deal with Link who landed behind him. The couple hammered away at the Honor guard who despite the increased speed and strength of the power mod, barely kept up with the barrage of attacks from both sides. He could tell the two weren't as experienced fighters as the Beck was, but there twice as many of them. He slowly began to figure out their patterns, spying chinks in their forms. Link's stance opened up and just as the guard was about to strike, a fourth disk entered the fray. Beck didn't have much energy left, but Raven and Link needed all the help they could get. Now with three on one, the guardsman was outmatched as they slowly pushed him back into the very corner he'd tried to force Beck into.

"No," the guard thought, "it can't end like this, I can't fail, I can't-" but Link had spotted an opening and with a swift kick to the soldier's helmet, knocked him out cold.

000

"Thanks for the help," Beck said. All three were on a plateau above the canyons.

"Don't mention it," Raven replied. She gestured to the power mod in Beck's hand. They'd taken it off the guard. "You better not lose that," she poked.

Beck gave them a tired smile, "I'll see you guys back at the Hideout," he held up the light jet baton, "You guys really don't mind me borrowing this?"

Link gave Raven a nudge, "We'll be fine flying back together."

As Beck took off, Raven turned to Link, "We still have couple hours left before the cycle's over," she put her arm through his, "What would you like to do?"

Link gave it a moment, then said, "Nothing."

Raven's expression was puzzled, "Nothing?"

He took his arm from her and sat done on the ledge of the plateau. He gestured for her to join him, "Yeah, nothing."

She sat done next to him. They rest their heads on each other. "Nothing sounds good."


	8. Episode 8: Old Haunts

**Greetings Programs!** **Enjoy this next installment of the series and don't forget to Read and Review!**

—

Accessing Archived Data…

Tron grows a little restless…

 _Tron jerked his head up from the terminal. He looked around, realizing he was till in the observation room at the hideout. Rubbing his eye with the butt of his hand, he reprimanded himself for staying up for so long without sleep. There had been a sizable intel report from Raven and he hadn't stopped examining it since she brought it to him. Standing up, he closed out the computer station and walked to the door, it was time he got some proper rest._

While the Uprising Gains Some Valuable Intel…

 _The Renegade in white leaned against the cockpit's wall, "Hey, how hard can it be? We land on the launch pad in Purgos. I slip out and place the trackers on the Recognizers. With that, we know where their troop deployments are at anytime._

And Mara Aims to Prove Herself…

 _It had been Mara's idea to use the mechanics wrenches to scrabble the code of all the Super Recognizer debris. If the source code was unstable or for that matter just gibberish._

But Some Have Their Doubts…

 _There were six in all and most of them had been on the last mission to the garage with the one exception being Mara who had never been in the field. "You sure you want to send her in?" Beck asked Tron._

" _I don't know," the older program crossed his arms, "that's why you're here, to help me decide."_

But Sacrifices Had to Be Made…  
 _With a solemn expression, Tron handed Link the detonator. The crowd separated before him as he made his way to the front. He stood for a second, the switch in hand, doing nothing but standing before the place where he'd made so many memories. He took a deep breath, "We won't forget you Abel, I promise" He hit the button._

 _There was a thunder as explosions echoed from within the garage. Pieces of beams and debris crumbled to the floor as the charges went off. The flashes of light illuminated the weary faces of the onlookers as each came to grips with losing what was once their home._

—

For her first mission, Mara couldn't have been more disappointed. Doing simple recon felt insubstantial compared to what the others did. She had said as much when Tron had given her the assignment, "Can't I be more useful? Isn't there something _else_ you need me more for?"

The stoic old program hadn't even changed expression, "No. Beck and the other trained programs we have are already spread too thin to cover everything." The note of hostility in his voice confused and frustrated her, it made it sound as if she were his _last_ choice for this assignment. "You're the next furthest along in the training which is why I'm asking _you_ to go."

"So I'm not the _very_ last choice," Mara had thought bitterly. A few cycles before, Beck had planted a series of trackers on a group of recognizers. While monitoring their whereabouts, a pattern had emerged in their movements centering around a lower section of the city. Tron had tasked Mara with scoping out the area to determine what the increased activity was all about.

The going had been slow. With Clu's bolstered forces in Argon, any attempt at entering the city via light jet was unthinkable. The sheer number of patrolling Occupation fighters alone would have been deterrent enough to try to enter the city by flight. So Mara had been forced to travel by light cycle underground. Tesler had mandated that the barricade around the city be kept up indefinitely and so the only other way around it was through the very tunnels the Uprising had used to escape Argon in the first place.

The long drive helped to clear Mara's head. Why had she been so angry at Tron over the mission? Afterall, she had been begging to go out and do something on her own ever since her training began, and now that she finally got the chance she was complaining? Perhaps she had just expected there would have been more when the time came, more for her to contribute to the Uprising. The long journey through the tunnels expelled her frustration. She had never been one to hold onto her anger and the caged feeling it gave her from doing so made her sick. She remembered her conversation with Tron, perhaps she had read into his words too much, surely he hadn't really been disappointed with her. He was strong, stoic, and a touch blunt at times, but he wasn't cruel or malicious. "Maybe he was having a bad day," Mara thought as she zoomed around another bend in the tunnels. Even the Champion of the Grid could have an off cycle every once in a while.

—

"This sector's been busy," his voice echoed off the tall buildings surrounding them. In the distance, the rumble of the city's center could be heard.

The guard walking with him turned his head, a look of disapproval on his face. He didn't wear his vizor up while on these patrols. Neither program did. "That's not funny, Wic."

Wic had white hair braided back into a wolf tail and a long scare that dragged downward from his forehead to his chin just missing one of his ember colored eyes. "I never said it was." There was suddenly the sound of running feet off to their right. Both programs ignored it. "I am curious, though," Wic continued as if nothing had happened, "why everyone's coming here."

The program walking beside him was slightly taller. His black hair complimented his dark skin although his eyes stood out in contrast with a bright sea green. He considered what Wic said as they walked, his hands behind his back. Something crashed off to their left, closer this time. The taller program turned to Wic, "Do you think their close enough?"

Wic seemed to consider, "I doubt it. We didn't see them so they can't pin us for negligence." The two kept walking, "Do you have any ideas, Koe? Why this place?" Wic asked, returning to their conversation.

"It's a mystery," Koe gazed steadily before him. "It's not the Uprising. There aren't any strategic targets in this area to attack. And if it's not them, then civilians are the only others who could be responsible." Wic chuckled, "What?"

His friend shook his head, "'The Uprising,' wasn't it only two cycles ago you got on my case for saying that?" Koe made to reply, but Wic cut him off, "And don't say it was because it was different."

"It was," Koe replied flatly, "And besides, my saying it doesn't make it any more prudent. It's still not a good idea to talk about them out in the open."

Wic's humored expression passed, "Agreed, I—" he was cut short as a movement in a nearby shadow caught their attention. "Hello?" Wic called into the mirk. Instead of a reply, the two saw someone bolt from their hiding place. Wic let out a long exhale in resignation then turned to Koe, "We saw him…"

Koe's expression became pained, "We did."

"I hate this part," Wic groaned. The two guards rezzed their vizor, more angular than those of typical Occupation helms. Embossed on the sides were weathered, but pronounced insignias. The symbols' worn appearance betrayed experience, the mark was a badge of skill. Wic and Koe weren't just good soldiers, they were veterans. They gave chase to the program.

—

Mara lay prone atop a skyrise. She had been in the position for nearly an hour, the binoculars held to her eyes as she searched the confined streets below. She hadn't been able to gather much intel other than confirming the increased Occupation presence in the area. As to why they were here, that was still unclear. One possibility seemed likely, although it didn't explain the extra muscle the army had brought in. From what Mara could tell, it looked as if the troopers were simply rounding up programs who were out past curfew. She had witnessed numerous guards hauling unwilling civilians into ships that then quickly took off towards the Coliseum. Mara had never been in the Games herself, but from what Beck had told her, she didn't ever want to be.

Mara rubbed her eyes with thumb and forefinger. The constant use of the binoculars was giving her a headache. On the brightside, she could head back to the Hideout soon. She had learned everything she could about what was going on and staying longer only increased her chances of being spotted. Yet, she couldn't leave these programs. She'd couldn't just abandon them to the Games. She couldn't free them all, but maybe she could free some of them. The question was, which ones? How to choose?

She heard a shout from below. Peering over the ledge, she gazed down at the distant street only to see two guards chasing down a long program. The guards were gaining on their prey and were yelling for the program to stop. Mara stood up, her expression set in determination. _There_ was someone she could help. And without a second thought, she leaped off the building toward the ground below.

—

TRON Uprising:

Old Haunts

—

"Get away from me!" the program shouted. Koe and Wic stepped to the side, easily evading the program's thrown disk. "I'm not going to the Games!"

"I wouldn't send you if I didn't have to," Wic thought as he closed the distance to the program. "But this is the ways things are now." The unlucky program threw a clumsy punch at Wic. Wic grabbed his wrist and jerked it upside down, leveraging the program to the ground. Koe came along side and strapped a set of binders on the program's hands.

"Please," the program pleaded, "I don't want to get derezzed."

"What were you doing in this part of the city?" Koe asked.

"I-I'm not sure," he was met with silence, "You have to believe me! I don't know."

Sighing, Koe removed the program's disk for inspection, "You're name's Ike, correct?" Koe said, reading the program's information. Ike nodded. Wic gave Koe a glance, but Koe merely shrugged.

"Ike," Wic said, "If you tell us what you were doing here, then maybe we can let you go."

"Really?" I was—" Ike's eyes flitted around the street as if searching for a plausible explanation, "I was just racing bikes with some friends, that's all."

"Then where are your friends?" Koe asked pointedly.

"Koe…" Wic's tone was cautious.

"We're required to ask," Koe turned back to Ike, "Answer the question."

"They're somewhere," Ike replied, frantic, "look around, you'll find them." Koe just shook his head.

"Let's go," Wic pushed Ike forward, forcing him to walk.

"But I—"

"They're not going to buy your story," Wic's voice was empty. He had seen this too many times.

"But you guys believe me, right?" silence, "Right?!" Wic said nothing. Behind him, Koe only walked with hands clasped behind him, his head bowed. "Come on!" Ike shouted, "You can't—" There was a blur of motion followed quickly by the sound of a disks revving. Ike suddenly found himself pushed the ground, another program standing over him. Lying on his side, he could see Wic had stumbled back from a strange program even as Koe moved closer, his disk buzzing.

"Yaaaaah!" the program standing over Ike yelled as she charged Koe. "She;" it was a female program who had attacked these two guards. Her helmet was up so Ike couldn't see her face, but he didn't wait around for a look. Seizing the opportunity, Ika pushed himself to his feet and ran off into one of the side alleys.

Wic, now over his surprise, moved to help Koe. He and the female program were exchanging blows at an incredible pace. Wic could tell she wasn't particularly strong, but her speed and tenacity more than made up for it. Koe stepped back from a swinging disk and Wic saw an opening. Going from a slow jog to a sprint, he closed the distance between himself and their assailant.

Mara saw the other guard out of the corner of her eye. She spun, her disk flying outward toward the new attacker. Her blow only hit air as the guard sidestepped her jab. Still moving fast, he rammed his forearm into her exposed side. The pain was intense. Mara put her free hand to the bruised area, cradling her throbbing ribs. The instant she did so, the first guard, the taller one, grabbed her disk hand and yanked it behind her back. The move was so quick Mara didn't get the opportunity to place her other hand down to support herself. She fell on her face, right arm pinned behind her back, her left arm pinned to her side by the pain.

"So this is the Uprising?" the shorter one said. His voice was almost sympathetic. Mara twisted her head to the side to look at him, his helmet bore a mark she'd never seen before. After a moment, his visor collapsed revealing white hair with a rugged face that was surprisingly calm. "How old are you anyway, program?"

"Let me up!" Mara yelled. To her surprise, the taller guard pulled her to her feet. However, she quickly realized it was only to put on the binders. The guard holding her also dropped his visor. He was a dark program, but his expression, like that of his friend, was collected, even a little sad.

"She'll have to do," the taller one said.

His friend signed, but didn't say anything. The white haired guard took up on the opposite side of Mara as both troopers held her by an arm.

"Let me go!" Mara yelled at them. She struggled to get free, but Flynn these guys had a strong grip. She let her legs go limp, dropping her weight and sinking to the floor to make it harder to carry her. The guards almost didn't seem to notice, they held her upright still with only one of each of their arms. Were these guys on mods? Talk of the mods and the increased speed and strength they gave were popular topics back at the Hideout. Many of the stories about them were wildly inconsistent, but one thing was always the same, anyone who wore them was dangerous and likely a little crazy. And yet, these two guards seemed not only sane, but disciplined. So they likely weren't using mods, but that meant their strength was natural. That scared Mara even more.

After a short distance, they brought her to an open city square. The area was lined with recognizers, some landing, some taking off, all of them full of captured programs. Mara tried to break free again, this time trying to kick her captors. The grip on her arms tightened painfully, "Don't make this any harder than it needs to be," the white haired one said.

"I hope you can live with what you do," Mara spat at them. Even if she couldn't win a physical fight with them, she wasn't going to go quietly. "Rounding up innocent programs to kill." She turned to the taller one, "Sooner or later, the Uprising will bring you down! Tron Lives!"

Unexpectedly, he didn't deny her. "If only…" his tone was sad, remorseful even.

They escorted her up a ramp into one of the ships, "This is the way things are now," the shorter guard added. The large door folded closed with silent efficiency leaving Mara with a terrible sinking feeling. The larger thrusters hummed to life and they rose into the sky. She was trying not to panic. How to get out of this one?

Several other recognizers had taken off with them and were following in a single file line. Mara twisted her head around to the back window in time to see a company of light jets join the formation, their screeching engines making a high pitched drone as they flew by the lead ship. She was pulled from watching them by a shot of pain in her arm, the guards were still holding her.

"I'm not going anywhere," Mara said, motioning to her arms. The white haired program looked at the taller one who shrugged. They let go and Mara almost fell on her face, she hadn't been supporting her weight when they'd dropped her. She got to her feet, glad her visor was still up so they couldn't see her face. Glancing up, Mara looked for any sort of hatch to climb through, but there was none. Even if there had been, how would she climb through it? Her arms were still bound behind her back.

"You might as well settle in," the white haired one said, "there's no point trying to escape."

"There is if it makes your jobs harder," she snapped at him.

He chuckled, "You're tenacious, I'll give you that. Where did you learn to fight like that anyway?" he added, curious.

Mara smiled under her helm, "Tron."

The taller guard shook his head, "Then he fooled you, too. The Renegade."

"Koe's right," the white haired program relaxed his back against the wall.

"What makes you so sure?" Mara sat down on a bench embedded in the wall next to a row of wing-shoots, "Is it just because they _tell_ you he's dead?"

"Look around," the white haired program jerked his head at the window where outside they could see the swarm of light jets. Up ahead loomed the Coliseum. "The entire Grid is against him."

"The entire Grid is _under Clu_ ," Mara pointed out, "He—" something fell from her back behind her.

"Like Wic said," Koe's shoulders slumped, "the entire Grid is against him. No program can stand against Clu for long."

"Then you underestimate him," Mara searched the bench behind here with her hand while still looking at the two guards. Her fingers brushed against something. Feeling it in her palm, she smiled. It was her wrench. It must have fallen out of her storage space on her disk.

"I wish that were the case," Wic replied, turning to the window, "Clu is just too powerful."

Mara hooked the wrench to her binders and began resetting their locks. "You could talk," she said bitterly. "You two are just another set of thugs working for the Occupation. You don't care about any of us."

"You're wrong," Koe met her eyes, "We protect—"

"Protect?" Mara sneered "Tell that to the two dozen programs you're hauling to Games to be derezzed."

"Thing weren't always this way," Wic turned back from the window, fixing her with a hard gaze, " _We_ weren't always this way."

 _Click_. She'd gotten the binders off. Now how to escape? "Does it matter?" Mara asked as she thought.

"Yes. It does," Wic replied

"We were there when Clu first took over," Koe said, "in Tron City."

"Probably helping him kill the ISOs," Mara retorted. The two were quiet. "You did, didn't you."

"We didn't stop him," Koe's voice was quiet. "So many dead…" Mara plugged her wrench into the wall. She had to do this while they were distracted.

"We lost a lot of good programs that day," Wic shook his head, "too many."

Mara's fingers worked frantically. Without being able to see what she was doing, she couldn't exactly tell what she was changing in the wall's code. From her experience working in the garage, she knew instinctively what to do to weaken the wall, the problem was that without being able to look, she had no idea _how_ weak she was making it. It might give way with a light push, or she might have to drive her shoulder into it. She had formed a plan; create a hole in the side of the ship, grab one of the wing-shoots, and then dive through and hope the patrolling light jets wouldn't spot her. Mara worried about that last part, but she had little choice. It was her only option.

"You deserved it," Mara threw back, "both of you, for siding with Clu. You deserve to—" Koe had drawn his disk and Wic stood by the door, tense.

"Watch yourself," Wic said in a dangerously quiet voice, "there were good programs that died that day."

"Then all the more shame for betraying them," her fingers moved to input the last of the instructions for her wrench.

"We _didn't_ betray them," Koe replied, his face falling, "but we couldn't save them, either."

 _Click_. Her wrench had finished. Now the real test came, if she could break the wall or not. Mara took a deep breath, bracing herself, then hesitated. Koe and Wic had demonstrated they were no typical Occupation fodder. Could she move fast enough to escape them? Yes. She could, she _had to._

She caught movement in the corner of her vision. She flicked her eyes back to Koe. He tensed and she knew the jig was up. It was now or never. She spun in her seat, planting two feet on the wall and gave it a shove. It gave way easily, she almost fell out of the ship from how little force it needed. She snagged a wingshoot, but a hand grabbed her shoulder, a strong hand. Reacting by instinct, Mara jabbed her elbow backward, guesses where the head of her attacker was. A groan from behind told her she'd been right. The hand on her shoulder let go and Mara jumped free of the ship.

Koe rubbed his eye, frowning; the hit had been harder than he would have expected. Wic joined him at the window as the two watched the rebel program plummet to the streets below. "How did she do this?" Wic poked the fringes of the hole in the ship, "she didn't use her disk."

Koe bent down and picked up something. The binders. "Looks like she had a utility wrench. It would explain how she got these off."

Wic groaned, "Why didn't we think to check for that?"

—

"You should have searched them more carefully, captains," Pavel's expression was positively snide.

Wic and Koe stood before Pavel on the capital ship. Tesler sat on his throne behind his pale commander. His brooding presence filled the room, "You failed" Tesler's voice was like a boulder rolling over gravel. "Clu and Dyson have gone to inspect the neighboring cities. Once again, authority falls to me to ensure _order_." The word "order" sounded like a death sentence. Wic and Koe stood in parade rest, feet apart, backs straight, hands clasped behind their backs. They didn't flinch as Tesler stood up and walked to stand directly in front of them. "There is a despicable vagrant loose in my city." His eyes narrowed, " _Find her._ "

The door to the throne room shut with a loud clang as the two guards left. "So," Wic ran a hand over his hair, "any idea where to start?"

Koe bent his head, thinking, "I remember she jumped out over the repair district, that might give us a lead."

Wic rubbed his chin, "That's a large sector. We'll need at least a full battalion to do a thorough search."

"Perhaps not," Koe said as they began walking, "a smaller strike team, ten, maybe twelve black guards would be better."

"And more mobile," they rounded a corner, heading for the hanger, "I'll start putting some programs together."

Koe nodded, "I'll put word out to cordon off the area." Wic turned to go, but Koe put a hand on his shoulder, "The programs you select, Wic. Make sure they're up to the task."

—

Flynn derez the program who'd programed her wing shoot. It had refused to open until almost the last second, causing her to carreen into a nearby building. She hadn't hit it full on luckily as an impact like that could have easily killed her. Instead, she'd merely glanced off the building's face, saving her life. Later on she might have been thankful; she was anything but now. Her temples throbbed with a deep ache. She shook her head, trying to get her bearings. She lay face down on what looked like the top of another building, inside a large circular area. She tried to push herself to her feet, but nearly yelled in pain as her right arm gave out from under her. With clenched teeth, she inspected it. A long gash ran the length of her forearm and it was deep enough she could see the voxels underneath her skin. Mara rolled onto her side, "Great," she thought.

Sitting up, she removed her disk and began inspecting her code. Raven had taught her some of the Occupation's field medicine. It wasn't much, but it was all Mara had right now. She located the damaged code for her arm and very carefully began altering a few lines here and there. She daren't touch anything else for fear she might accidently make the situation worse. Luckily, she didn't; after fixing the damaged section as best she could, she docked her disk and felt the pulsing pain in her arm subside noticeably. Was she healed enough to fight? The answer was a strong "no" as she clenched her fist to test the wound and found it still stung sharply. "It could be worse," she thought, getting to her feet, "At least I didn't lose the whole arm."

Standing, she surveyed the building top. It seemed naggingly familiar. There was an abstract statue in the center of the rooftop. Were those faint colored pixels on it? She took a step closer to see and a large dome enveloped her, a voice saying, "Combatant one." Her quick flash of panic melted to laughter as it dawned on her. These were the ball courts, the kind she, Zed, Bodhi, and Beck had all used to play on. Her mind drifted nostalgically back to a match they'd had. Bodhi and Beck had been going at it for hours, each trying to outdo the other. Bodhi had been up by one point and was playing it defensive, fielding the ball unpredictably to frustrate Beck. It might have worked it if Beck hadn't made the save of a lifetime. Mara and Zed had watched from the sidelines as the two programs went back and forth, back and forth until the ball shot up to the top of the dome. It ricocheted from there down towards the ground. If it struck the floor, Bodhi would win. Beck had lunged for the ball, almost seeming to fly across the court. Then in one graceful motion he'd caught it, his catcher scrapping the arena floor, and hurled it over his shoulder. Bodhi, who hadn't expected Beck to make the catch, was completely unprepared when the ball went sailing past him to score two points.

Mara smiled remembering that cycle. How long had it been since she'd last enjoyed something so simple as a night out with friends? How many cycles since she'd simply had _fun_? The court felt smaller than it had back then. Where was the scuff mark from Beck's catcher? She frowned, searching the ground for it. Her eyes raced along the floor of the court, trying to find any sign of that night. She criss-crossed the arena, checking around the edges, places she was sure where the scratch wasn't, but she had to check anyway. There was nothing. It was gone. Vanished. Purged away by the Occupation's pursuit of perfection. The machine that cleaned the courts had probably scrubbed away any traces of that night long ago.

Anger boiled inside of her. They couldn't just erase those days, she wouldn't let them. She wouldn't lose Bodhi again; they would _not_ take his memory. Pulling her disk free with her good hand, she knelt down and drove it deep into the arena floor. She dragged it horizontal across the ground leaving jagged edges of code behind. Placing the edge back in the middle of the line she'd just made, she jerked downward, longer, sharper than before. When she finished, a large freshly cut "T" took up the center of the court. "There," Mara thought, "let them try to erase _that_."

A sound startled her from behind. Mara turned to see a squadron of recogniers rise over the edge of the building. Search lights blazed form their cockpits as they swept the rooftop. Thinking fast, Mara dove behind the leg of the statue standing in the middle of the court, the lights casting her into deep shadow. Thankfully, she had thought to switch her grid lights off earlier. Enfolded in the blackness, she gave not a hint of her presence. Maybe they would move on without seeing her. She bumped her arm against the cold side of the statue and a fresh sting of pain jolted her; with this arm, she wouldn't be able to escape them, not outright at least.

She waited...and waited. Mara poked her head out from behind the sculpture, why wouldn't they _leave_ already? The answer came at the same time she saw it. Three recognizers had landed around the ball court and she could see guards and sentries mingling around in the center as if studying something. Her eyes widened, "The 'T,' they found it." Now they would now she had been here. That is, if she wasn't still around. The same idea had evidently occurred to the soldiers who began to fan out in search patterns.

Where to go? If she moved she would be spotted. Mara looked around frantically, trying to locate a means of escape. The floor. Could she cut through it? She drew her disk, still obscured from view by the side of the statue and drove it hard into the roof's surface. It sank all the way up to her hand; bad sign. It was too thick to slice through. Could she hack it? Her wrench was designed to interact with vehicles, not architecture. The building's code might simply reject any attempt she made to change it. But she had to try.

Mara took out her wrench and attempted to plug it into the rooftop. It worked, or at least the source code didn't outright reject her wrench. She pulled open the interface and tried adjusting some of the parameters for the structure. The display flashed yellow and black, a warning message appeared reading, "WARNING: FORMATS NON-COMPATIBLE." Mara resisted the urge to scream in frustration. Footsteps were coming closer from both sides of the statue. If they came around and looked at it from the opposite angle, she would be in plain sight. She had to do _something_! Her disk had failed and so had her wrench. She looked between them, thinking hard. Then she got an idea, she didn't like it but she was out of options.

She sliced and chopped at the roof in front of her. Then, leaving her wrench on the ground, she climbed into the folds of the statue to hide. If the guards simply looked up from below, they would see her. She hoped that what she'd just done to the roof would be enough to fix their attention. The guards' footsteps rounded the edge of the statue. They walked past but stopped abruptly. Mara held her breath. Since she couldn't _actually_ cut through the roof, she had attempted to make it _look_ like she had. The scoring on the surface made it appear like she had a been trying to cut a hole through the material. That coupled with leaving her wrench behind, she hoped, would suggest to the guards she had somehow hacked her way through the roof into the building.

The sound of footsteps drew nearer until the two soldiers entered below her. A glance upward and they would see her. One of them bent down, examining her work.

"Could she have gotten through?" he asked the other trooper.

"You heard what the captains said," the other replied as he bent done to pick up her wrench, "she escaped the recognizer using one of these. Made a hole in the ship."

The other stood up, "So it's possible, then."

"More than that, I'd say," the second guard said. He paused for a moment, considering. Mara's was getting tired from holding herself in place with one arm, she was shaking from the effort. "Ask the captains if we can send the teams below to search the building."

"Yes sir," the guards split up as they left to fulfil their separate tasks. Mara waited a few seconds until she was sure they were out of ear shot, then dropped to the ground. Her left arm ached with fatigue from holding her up for so long, but it had been long enough. Chancing another look around the corner, she saw most of the troops making their way to lower levels. She also spotted two familiar shapes standing by the recognizer. The guards from earlier, the ones with veteran marks on their helmets. She felt her code run cold. They were coming her way.

Mara ducked out from behind the back of the statue, doing her best to keep it blocking the sightlines between her and oncoming party. She backed up farther and farther away until her foot struck open air. Doing her best to retain her balance, she glanced behind to realize she was on the edge of the roof. She looked across the high-rise gap to the nearest building. It wasn't that far. She could make it. She took several steps back, then with a running start, leaped the distance.

—

"It's right over here, sir," the soldier said as he walked Wic and Koe to the statue. He motioned to a square cut section of the roof.

"Thank you sergeant," Koe dismissed the guard as Wic bent down to examined the mark. He ran a finger along the edges of the cut, "The guards think she might have sliced a hole into the building."

Wic stood up, "I don't know," he held the mechanic's wrench in his hand, "Something about this isn't right." He paced under the statue, "Say she made it through. What kind of advantage does that give her?"

"Cover," Koe leaned against the statue, "up here she's too exposed."

"She'd also be trapped down there," Wic pointed out.

"Would she have considered that?" Koe stroked his chin.

"Possibly," he idly searched the rooftop, "I think we have to accept the fact she might be better trained than we gave her credit for."

Koe chuckled, "There he is." His friend turned to give him a questioning glance. "The old teacher. You never could resist praising a good student."

"I _appreciate_ skill," Wic corrected him, "And this hardly proves anything. It does remind me though…" Wic sighed, "Training rookie programs; it's been a long time." His face fell, "Abraxas...we lost them all that day."

Silence as the two thought. Koe turned, looking off to the cityscape, "We never did discover where he came from."

"Or where he went," Wic rubbed his forehead, "he came, killed all those programs, then disappeared." He rested the back of his head against the statue, "Sometimes I still think about Tref, Jay, and the others. The others who tried to stop him."

Koe nodded, "At times, I'll imagine their faces and for a brief moment, they will be here again." A low wind swept the rooftop filling the silence. That day so many cycles ago was something that still haunted them. The tension between ISOs and Programs had been at a high point. To ease relations, Flynn had made one of the ISOs co-manager of the Grid along side Clu. The inauguration ceremony had been held in Tempest Square, but half way through the proceedings, everything went sideways—disastrously.

Wic took a deep breath, "We can't think about them." He glanced to the wrench in his hand, "Besides, we have a job to do." He tossed it to Koe who caught it with one hand, "What do you think?"

Koe studied the wrench, "It seems odd to me," he paced over to the cuts in the roof, "that she left this here."

"What do you mean?"

The dark skinned program program gestured at the wrench, "Let's imagine she cuts her way through with her disk and/or with the wrench." He crossed to the square cut section of the ground and stomped a foot on it. He frowned, "Granting that, she would need the wrench to repair the hole she'd just made to cover up her tracks. She's at least that smart."

Wic nodded in understanding, "She would need to repair the hole from _inside_ the building, but the wrench is out _here_." He met Koe's eyes, "She's not in the building." The white haired veteran scowled, "No. This was a distraction. And a good one too." The two walked out from under the statue, pacing the rooftop together, thinking. "There's no place to hid up here, so she must have jumped to another building."

"The question is, which one?" they turned in a wide circle, scanning the nearby rooftops for movement. Most of the surrounding structures were shorter than the one they were on which would make it easier for her to escape.

"We'll have to start a search pattern," Wic jerked his thumb back at some of the remaining guards, "I'll recall our troops and we can send some up on light jets to start a sweep over the surrounding area."

He was about to go when Koe caught his arm, "There may be no need." Wic raised an eyebrow, but instead of answering, Koe pointed to a section of the ground nearby. There, a faint trail of voxels lead towards the edge of the roof.

—

Mara clenched her teeth as she tried to descend the fire escape with only one arm, the other she held against her chest to keep it from moving. She was now several buildings over from the arena tower where she had crashed. She would have used the rooftops to get further away but the gap between her current building and the next was too large to jump. So she had been forced to clamber down the outside stairwell in order to continue on at street level.

Dropping the final distance, Mara's feet made the narrow alleyway echoe with her impact. She gripped her arm to still the throbbing pain as she scanned her surroundings. The guards would be looking for someone with an injured arm. There was no way she could heal the wound, but maybe she could cover it. Several dumpsters lined the alley and after rummaging through two of them, she pulled out a old cloak. It was worn and greasy but otherwise undamaged. Putting it on, she pulled the hood up and stepped out into the street.

Bustling programs bumped and shoved past her on the luminescent sidewalks, several unintentionally jarring her injured arm. It was all she could do to not yell in pain every time it happened. Mara looked up to get her bearings. The wide sidewalks were cluttered with pedestrians and the street was busy with traffic. Her current route was an offshoot of one of the central highways that ran through Argon. In fact, it was one that ran directly to Able's old garage on the docks. The docks. Several of the tunnels opened up near the cargo stacks. If she could make it there, she could ride, albeit slowly given her arm, back into the Outlands and to safety.

She derezzed her helm, it would only draw attention. She'd had her vizor up earlier when she was first captured and so wasn't worried about being recognized. All the same, she avoided soldiers and Occupation personal when possible. When another program passed by, she would pull her hood close to obscure her face. Although she didn't show hers, she could clearly make out the expressions of those passing around her. The programs looked fatigued, overworked, and miserable. There was a slouch in their step and hunch in their shoulders like they all were hefting some invisible load. This was first time Mara had been back in the main part of the city since she'd joined the Uprising. She remembered when the Occupation had first come to Argon, when Bodhi was killed. Things seemed bleak then but somehow everyone had managed to cope with Tesler's rule. From the downtrodden looks of those she now saw, these programs were not faring so well. Clu's iron grip was threatening to squeeze the the spirit out of everyone in Argon, everyone on the Grid.

That thought set her resolve as she picked up her pace. That was why she had joined Tron in the first place, to protect those otherwise left abandoned, to restore freedom to the Grid. But was she really helping the cause? That stopped her in her tracks. She was sure she could escape, but in doing so, she wouldn't complete her mission; her first assignment from Tron and she would fail it. All he had asked for was simple recognisance, observe and report, but somehow she'd managed to botch the whole thing and nearly get derezzed in the process. What was she doing? What help could she possibly be if she had messed up something so simple? Doubt shot threw her mind; maybe this was all a mistake, maybe she'd shouldn't be in the field. Maybe she should have stayed back at the Hideout and helped with something else. Maybe she shouldn't have joined the Uprising at all.

A hand appeared on her shoulder, yanking her from her thoughts. It was just another program passing along the street. "Are you alright? You were just standing there," his eyes drifted to her midsection and Mara realized her injured arm was exposed.

She quickly pulled the cloak over it, "I'm fine." Turning abruptly from him, she started again towards the docks, her back stiff with anxiety. She hadn't made it ten steps when she heard a light jet scream overhead. Without stopping, she glanced up to see it wasn't alone. Four jets in a branching pattern were skimming the rooftops and Mara didn't need to guess what they were looking for. Up ahead was a Occupation security checkpoint, Clu must have installed them shortly after his arrival in Argon. A long line wove it's way from the nearest clearance station. Inside, guards checked each program's disk for irregularities.

"Flynn's voxels," Mara swore when she saw how long the line was; she couldn't wait this long. She cast a look over her shoulder and a sharp chill rode up her spine. A squad of black guards were combing the streets and at the forefront where two uncomfortably familiar looking soldiers. One with white hair in a wolf tale, the other, dark skin and sea green eyes; both were talking with a program and as Mara studied him she realized it was the one who had stopped her in the street. Her suspicion was confirmed as while she watched, the program said something to the two guards and pointed in her direction. She needed to move, _now_.

She shoved her way to the side of the street, tucking herself into a small alcove in a shop entrance and put her vizor back up. Occupation in front of her and Occupation behind. Could she get back to the rooftop? But that was a terrible idea, the light jets were still up there patrolling the skyline. Maybe she could duck out through an alleyway to another street, but there wasn't an intersection on her side and crossing over meant exposing herself to the search party. _Where to go?!_

—

"And be sure to cover the alleys and side streets."

"Yes, sir," the soldier replied and Wic watched he and the others slowly break off to secure the area. Were they really that slow? Perhaps not, perhaps he was just used to better. And yet these were supposed to be the best Clu had to offer, the best trained, the most disciplined soldiers he had. Koe watched with a similar sentiment, a deep frown on his face.

"No wonder she keeps slipping past us," Wic said, "with these sorry excuses, Flynn himself could outrun them."

"Perhaps that's why they never caught him," Koe quipped and Wic laughed.

"Maybe. Of course, the official story is that he's dead," Wic replied.

"We both know that's voxel waste," Koe said, "they never found him. _We_ never found him," he turned to Wic as the two made their way through the crowd, "Do you remember the search?"

"Do I?" Wic scoffed, "One hundred cycles of creeping through the Outlands in unfit vehicles, turning over every stone for any sign of the old man." Wic sighed, "And we found absolutely nothing."

"Nothing," Koe echoed.

"And not for lack of trying, either," Wic continued, pushing past another pedestrian. They were slowly making their way towards the checkpoint up ahead. "We had the best recruits on the Grid helping out. Well, the best ones left after Abraxas." His brow furrowed and he gestured to the soldiers, "And now we're left with these idiots who couldn't hit the broad side of a recognizer."

"I think that's a bit of an exaggeration," Koe said, "but I agree; we've certainly seen better." They walked on in silence for moment before Koe spoke up, "I wish we had found him."

"It wouldn't have been that simple," Wic shook his head, "I had the same hope when we were combing the Outlands. Clu's right, he's not a god, but things were better when Flynn and Tron were in charge. But it's not use holding out hope. Flynn's gone and Tron is dead and we have to live with it."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Do you?"" Wic replied, but not unkindly, "I wish it were true. That life could go back to the way it was. But even if Flynn did come back, what could he do? If Tron wasn't dead, what's the difference?"

"It would mean the girl is right," Koe cast him a glance. Wic didn't have a response.

They walked for a moment in silence before Koe spoke again, "What do you think about the her now?"

"She's tough, but nothing we haven't seen before. We evaluate skill and she hasn't demonstrated anything exceptional."

Koe gave him an eyebrow, "She lept from a recognized mid flight amidst dozens of hostile light jets, crashed with a serious injury judging by the voxels, and managed to pull herself together enough to jump to another building all the while remaining covert." His lips tweaked into a light smile, "Admit it, you like her."

Wic chuckled, "You always did make a good case for the cadets. Whenever I'd send them away because I thought they didn't have it in them, you'd bring them back changed programs," he looked off, remembering, "you always managed to give them something they didn't have before."

"It's what this girl has," Koe surveyed the street, searching faces, "determination. And a lot of it."

Wic nodded but before he could say anything more the two were distracted by a commotion off to their left. They could hear a guard yelling, "Halt program, stop—" they saw the soldier come tumbling out of shop entryway into the busy street. A hooded program bolted from the doorway into the middle of crowd.

"What was that about determination?" Wic quipped as he rezzed his visor. Koe did likewise as the two ran forward, shoving and pushing programs out of the way in pursuit.

—

Escape was impossible. Mara strode through the throng of programs doing her best to protect her injured arm, but the jostling mass of people made it difficult. She was running toward the security checkpoint as that was the only way to go and it bought her a little more time. But time to do what? She had no plan, their were no options left, she was boxed in from all directions.

"Come on Mara," she told herself, "think, _think!I_ " Up ahead loomed the lines of vehicles and people waiting to be cleared by the security officers. She got an idea. It was stupid and risky and probably wouldn't work, but she had little doubt the guards chasing her had orders to derez on sight and this was all she could think of. "Please work," she thought, "Flynn's disk, please work."

—

Why was she running this way? Koe's sharp eyes followed the rebel's bobbing head as it weaved in out of the crowd ahead of them. She was headed _toward_ the security checkpoint, towards _more_ guards. Did she have a death wish? Unlikely, from what he and Wic had seen she was more than capable both strategically and physically. So why this gambit? She wasn't even trying to lose them in the crowd. Granted that wouldn't have worked, but it was a more tenable plan than rushing your enemy.

The number of people thickened as they got closer to the checkpoint, making it harder to keep up with the rogue program. Koe felt a flash of admiration, the mob of people was greater near the clearance gates making it harder to pursue. Counterintuitive, but effective. It wouldn't save her, but it would delay the inevitable.

"I've lost her," Wic said from his left. Koe had as well, the surging mass of programs had hidden her from view.

The other members of their squad caught up with them. "Fan out," Koe ordered and the team obeyed, each worming their way as best they could through the press of bodies.

Wic ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Koe knew from cycles of working together that mean the was thinking, "What do you think her endgame is?"

Koe shook his head, "I don't know. She's cornered right now and I think she knows it."

"But why here, what's _here_ at a security checkpoint that would help her?"

They answer hit them both at the same time, "Vehicles."

"Of course," Koe said, "if she can grab one, she might get away."

"She _thinks_ she might get away," Wic corrected, "We have the area covered. Even if she had a light jet she couldn't escape."

Koe resisted a smirk, "That's what we thought last time."

"You think she can do it?" Wic replied, amused.

Koe crossed his arms smiling, "I do."

Wic grinned, "You're on then, old friend." He turned back to the line of vehicles leading up to the security gates. He motioned for several guards to examine them, "But in all seriousness, I don't see anyway out of this. All doors are locked and we have the keys."

"Perhaps," Koe offered as they both stood vigil, watching the guards search the vehicles, "but maybe she doesn't need a door. After all, the last time she escaped, it was by jumping out a window."

—

 _Keep it together, Mara. Don't make a sound_. Holding herself up under the statue had been nothing compared to this. Move just a little to the right and the rear right tire of the truck would crush her. Move too far to the left and the drive shaft would take her head off. Back in the Hideout, one of Mara's favorite simulations to practice were covert ops missions, really just over-the-top games of hide-and-seek. Ten people would pose as guards and the rest would have to conceal themselves in and around a set environment. The last program hiding would win and was often Mara. She'd found ways of crammering herself into extremely tight spaces, places no one would ever think to look. She only hoped now that her life depended on it that was still true.

As she had neared the checkpoint, she'd spotted a big-rig, shipping truck. Ducking low to hopefully avoid being seen amidst the thickening throng of programs, she'd crawled under the truck and climbed up _into_ a nook in the chasie. She'd discovered this little spot while working back at the garage. They had opened up a large truck to work on and she'd seen this pocket of space right in between the right wheel and the drivetrain of the vehicle. "Huh," she'd thought, "that almost looks like someone could fit in there." She was about to test if that was the case.

Mara tensed up as she heard footsteps circling the car; guards checking to see if she'd stowed away aboard any of them. They made the driver exit the vehicle and to her dread, they started up the truck. The drive shaft began spinning inches from her head, the high pitched whirring deafening she was so close. Although she couldn't hear anything, she saw shadows of the guards circling the truck, checking the hatch and the side doors, anywhere someone could be hiding.

Then they left. They were gone. There was a lurch as the truck began moving forward. They'd cleared the check point.

She'd made it.

—

Wic massaged his forehead in frustration while Koe stood by, arms crossed. "We didn't find her, sir," the black guard said, "we looked everywhere."

"Do the sweep again," Koe told the guard, "and be thorough." The guard saluted before leaving to relay the orders. "Do you think she got away?" Koe asked once the guard was out of earshot.

"It's beginning to look that way," he sighed, "And don't say 'I told you so.' How did she manage it this time, anyway?"

"She's smart," the two stood on the side of the street as the traffic and programs passed, "smarter than we thought."

"Smarter than our men, you mean."

Koe gave a slight smile, "It would seem so," his expression fell, "this isn't going to go over well with Pavel."

"Or Tesler, or Clu," Wic added.

He paused for moment and Koe guess what he was thinking, "We still have to catch her."

Wic laughed, "If we can," but then his expression fell, "if we can. The best fighter we've seen in how many cycles, and she's at the end of a manhunt." He rolled his shoulders and stood up straight, "But this is the way things are now."

Koe nodded solemly then pulled out his disk and from it opened a map of the city, "She got away. Now where is she going? The outroads won't work because of the barricade around the city and she knows a light jet is suicide."

"Let's back up a step," Wic studied the map, "We know from reports that the majority of the renegades were mechanics. How many garages in Argon have reported absent workers?"

"Not many," Koe sighed, "A few here and there, but nothing substantial. Nothing like…" he trailed off.

"What?"

"There was one. The owner was an older mechanic; Able." Koe did a quick search on the map and bright red dot appeared on the layout. "How far from here is that?"

"Not far at all," Wic replied, "in fact, it's at the end the highway right here."

He looked up and Koe nodded, "I'll prepare the men."

—

It stopped, thank Flynn it stopped. Mara more or less collapsed out from under the truck onto the street. She could see other cars parked alongside and realized that they must be at a stop light. She rolled out from under the chassis and stumbled to the sidewalk garnering several honked horns from other bikes and vehicles. Her legs ached from crouching in such a small place for so long. Her vision was slightly blurred from the massive migraine she had; the drive chain's high pitched whirring had made her nearly deaf especially given she'd sat so close to it. Resting a hand on a building, she steadied herself to stop her vision from swimming. Only once the nausea subsided did she take in her surroundings.

The street was like any other. Shops, bars, and clubs marked her side of the avenue. Across from her, however, was a different story. It opened onto a wide, flat surface that ran to the edge of the sea. She could hear the waves crashing. The plain was completely empty except for a large bump shaped building fitted all around with a geodome like design. There was no sign, no marker to say what the building was, but Mara knew. Able's garage. Home.

She staggered across to the large open gate. The lights inside where dark, but as Mara grew closer, she gasped. The inside of the place was destroyed. Crumbled debris and chunks of material littered the floor. Holes were poked in the ceiling letting soft blue rays filter down through a profusion of dust. The floor was criss-crossed with large cracks and scattered voxels lay everywhere. She knew she needed to go, to keep moving, she was close to the tunnels, she had to get out of the city. But she'd couldn't walk away. She didn't want to.

"No," Mara's voice echoed in the empty space. Link had told her what they'd had to do. That destroying the garage had been necessary. She had believed him, but hadn't truly been able to bring herself to admit that it was all completely gone. Now, confronted with the wreckage of all that had once been her life, she had no choice. The work stations, the tools, the lounge in the back were all destroyed.

She knelt down beside a battered light cycle, running her hand through some of its partially disintegrated voxels. How had this happened? _Why_ had it happened? Why her? Why _them_? Bodhi, Zed, Beck, her, they had all lived good lives, they hadn't done anything to deserve this, so why? She shuffled through the debris, looking for nothing. What had they done to deserve this? Having their friends killed, their home destroyed? Sure, Link had been the one to do it, but that was only because the Occupation had twisted the garage, their home, into something terrible, something they had to destroy. But now what was left? The burned and bitter ashes of a good life?

Without realizing it she found herself near the elevator. It obviously didn't work, but Mara wished it did. Had the locker room survived? Of course not, nothing had. Her gaze drifted to the door beside the lift. A lump caught in her throat. Able's office. She entered hesitantly. The circular desk lay smashed on the floor amidst a wash of cubes and the light above it flickered mournfully. Able hadn't deserved this. If anyone had been good to her, to them, it was Able. He hadn't deserved to die. Tears formed in the corners of her eye. She fought them, but they kept coming and coming and coming. Coming like the deaths of her friends, coming like the soldiers who had killed the, coming like the programs chasing her now.

She slumped to the floor, stifling a cry. What was the point of all this? Was Tron really worth it, worth the lives of every she had cared about? Her failed mission haunted her. Tron didn't need her. He had given her a useless assignment and she had blown it. She wasn't good for the Uprising. Maybe she could leave. She could quit and go somewhere else. She could leave her pain and failure behind, she didn't have to face them. It could be over, just like that.

She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand and noticed something blue stuck to it. Small, tiny voxels, smaller than any from a person or machine. It was Bit. Pieces of Bit. When Pavell had taken over the garage, he'd derezzed the harmless little guy. Bit had done nothing wrong, he was Bit, he wasn't _capable_ of doing anything wrong, but Pavel had killed him anyway. Mara stared at the cluster of tiny cubes in her hand. Bit had been innocent and had died. They'd killed him. _They killed him_.

Mara slowly stood up, clutching Bit's pieces in her palm with a white knuckled fist. Bit had been innocent. Able was innocent, Bodhi was innocent. Yet they had all been killed by the Occupation. Mara scowled, her expression pure resolve. That's why she fought, why Beck fought, why Tron fought, why they _all fought_ , to protect those crushed under the heel of Clu. To protect each other and those who had no one to help. She curled her right hand into a fist, ignoring the pain in her arm. She wasn't going anywhere, not while people still needed her.

"Be careful," Mara froze. Voices from outside. "We know she's tricky, so keep a sharp eye." Lights moving outside the office, one was moving closer. Mara tucked herself into a nook by the door. The guard entered. No it was a captain, one of the two. This one had the white hair and scare. He stood in the doorway, searching the room with his glowtorch. He was going to spot her. She could wait, or act now. She didn't wait.

—

"Koe," Wic called over his shoulder, "See if you can check the upper levels, I—ah!" He was cut off be a strong kick to the throat. He gasped for air as the girl ran from behind the door towards the window. Koe came running just in time to see the girl hurl her disk at the glass, shattering it before she dove through.

"You good?" Koe asked, helping Wic up.

"Yeah," Wic replied hoarsely, rubbing his throat. The kick had knocked the wind out of him, "She really seems to like windows," he motioned outside, "Come on!"

—

Mara slid down the side of the building and landed with roll, letting out a small yelp at the pain in her arm. Riding a light cycle was going to be hard, but she had no other choice. It was now a sprint to the tunnels. She popped the baton and peeled out of the garage.

—

"Bikes out, _now_!" Wic shouted as he and Koe sprinted from the garage. The others of their team quickly obeyed, rezzing their light cycles. Koe and Wic rezzed theirs mid-stride and didn't pause to fill in the soldiers as they raced after Mara. "She has an injured arm," Wic thought as they honed in on her bike, "she's gonna have a hard time steering with just one hand." He felt a pang of pity at that, here was the most capable program he'd seen since the old days and they had to derez her. He mentally cringed. No, not derez, they just had to capture her, that was their job. But no matter how much he told himself, he couldn't shake the truth; they would be sending her to her death. He sighed beneath his helmet; that was their job, the way things were now. _If only it weren't_ , he thought.

"Watch out!" Koe shouted. Wic pulled himself back from his thoughts in time to see a large piece of pipe flying toward him. He swerved hard, barely managing to avoid it. He righted his bike in time to see the girl up ahead cut another piece of debris free, leaving it as an obstacle in their way.

 _She's not going quietly_ , Koe mused to himself as they avoided another chunk of rubble cut from a building. Having to constantly dodge around what she threw at them slowed their pursuit, but she couldn't ride very fast with just one arm and they slowly began making ground on her. _It would have been easier had you just given up_ , Koe thought but then laughed. Who was he kidding? This girl had grit. She wasn't about to turn herself in, she'd run them to the edge of the Grid and back before she laid down her disk. And again he regretted what they had to do. "Disks at the ready!" Koe shouted. The black guards undocked their disks, their humming blending with the drone of their cycles' ion engines. They needed to incapacitate her bike and with the odds fourteen-to-one, it wouldn't take long to do so.

—

 _Thank you Zed_ , was all Mara though as she whipped around another corner, taking a swing at a sign hanging over head. She, and everyone else, _hated_ vehicle practice at the Hideout. Zed was not a little drunk with his power as the instructor and his lessons were often blunt and painful. But right now they were saving her life. He had forced them to run a race while using only one hand on the controls of their bikes, he even went so far as to teach them how to ride their cycles without using their hands at all. As much as Mara had hated those sessions, if she got through this, she promised herself she would never complain about them again. She heard the sign crash behind her followed by the sound of crunched code and a grunt as someone got forcibly ejected from their bike. Mara smiled, "One down, thirteen to go."

The key to driving with one arm was the handbrake, Zed had told them. You can drift around corners with minimal expense to speed. It was tricky to do in practice as the first time Mara had tried it, she'd flipped herself off her light cycle. Now, however, she glidded around the narrow city streets with ease. She had just jerked her bike down a closed alleyway when an orange blur blew past her helmet. It was only when it came back _toward_ her she realized it was a disk and swerved to avoid it. She pulled out onto the main highway and chanced a look over her shoulder. They were getting closer, close enough to start throwing disks.

She gunned the throttle and jumped the partition separating the lanes. A barrage of oncoming traffic greeted her and it was only with the greatest luck she didn't slam into a big-rig heading the opposite way. "Trying following me now," Mara thought.

They did. Or they tried, anyway. Wic watch helplessly as immediately three of his men succumbed to the oncoming traffic. Their entire group had followed the girl into the the other lane and one of his guards had slammed into large truck headed the other direction and in their panic, another two had somehow managed to collide _with each other_. "Flynn take these idiots," Wic said to himself, he had to give the girl credit, though. Their job was much much harder now with the flurry of oncoming vehicles they had to avoid. If they were going to capture her, they need to push her out of this traffic.

Koe saw Wic waving to him. It was too loud to shout over the onslaught of vehicles, so Wic used one of their old hand signals. _End Chase now. Perform Corner and Box_. Koe nodded and moved his hand in a circle then clenched his fist to let Wic know he understood. A Corner and Box was a control technique they'd used back in the old days. They hadn't invented it themselves, rumor had it that Tron had created the maneuver back on the Old System. What it was is while in pursuit of a program, two others would use their light trails to not stop them, but control their movement. One program would drive along side whomever they were chasing while the second took up position in front of them. The program ahead could use their tail to determine what direction the target would take while his partner riding alongside would ensure the target didn't try to outrace them. The point of the move was to get the program to go to a very specific place and the way they did that was as they came up on the destination, the lead program would give a brief signal, to let his partner know it was coming, and then he would abruptly swerve into the path of the target. The target would then have to jerk out of the way to avoid a collision, but they also would move in the direction the pursuers wanted.

They had performed the maneuver dozens of times and it always worked. Koe felt a twang of irony by taking out a renegade program using a move invented by Tron. There was only one way out of Corner and Box; you had to brake ahead of time. Since the signal the lead program gave wouldn't mean anything to target, they never could react fast enough.

Koe turned out of the traffic back into the lane heading the right direction. Wic watched him speed up now that he didn't have to avoid oncoming cycles and trucks. He would get ahead and Wic would take up position alongside the girl. He was about to consider getting the other black guards involved when two more bit the dust, both driving clean off the road while trying to dodge traffic. Sighing, he gave them the order to follow at a distance before he himself jammed the throttle and shot forward.

—

Mara cast a look behind her. They were pulling back, all of them except one who was gaining ground at a rapid pace. Something was off here, but she didn't have time to think about it as just then another orange cycle came flying from her left. He was ahead of her and his light trail was gently curving to the right forcing Mara to follow it. Something about what he was doing struck her as vaguely familiar, but she couldn't say why. Just then his partner came zooming up on her left. She tried to get away from him, but he and his friend had her pinned up against the guard rail on the side of the road. But they didn't close in. Although she was boxed in by the two guards, they didn't use their light trails to cut her off. But if derezzing her wasn't the goal, what was?

 _Think, Mara, think!_ They wouldn't preserve her unless they wanted something. Maybe they needed to take her alive. If so, then they'd most likely try to drive her off the road to someplace less hazardous than oncoming traffic. But the only way to do that…

Her eyes widened as it all clicked. The way they were driving, she knew it. She recalled a vehicle lesson several cycles ago. Tron himself had come out to teach them some special techniques. He taught them how to control an opponent. He taught them a maneuver to box in a target and get them where you wanted to go. One in front, one on the side. The Box and Corner.

—

Up ahead. Koe spotted an exit ramp leading down into the lower town. The street looked empty and terminated in a dead end. If they could get her down there, she'd be trapped. He adjusted his grip, bracing himself. He had to get the timing just right or else the girl would slip by...again. Just a little further. He gave the signal; a small gesture with his hand cutting downward.

Wic saw it and hit the brakes, deploying his wing foils on the front of his bike to slow down. A moment later Koe swerved to the right, cutting off the girl's narrow escape, forcing her path down an exit ramp. Only she didn't go down. An instant after he had braked, she had too, except instead of merely slowing down, she'd fishtailed her bike around and gunned it in the opposite direction. _She'd known_ , Wic thought, stunned, _she'd known what we were doing_. There wasn't time to be shocked, however, as she began trying to put distance between them and her. _Not this time_. He pulled out his disk and threw a wicked shot aimed at her back wheel.

—

She'd done it! She'd spotted their move and had just enough time to react. Now she was home free, she was—

Her bike suddenly jerked to the right. Too much, she couldn't compensate for it. The back wheel wasn't responding. She lost balance and the bike landed on its side, skidding several feet with her leg trapped between it and the road. The rough code of the pavement sheared up her leg and she screamed in pain. Finally, she came to a stop, but she hardly noticed, he vision swimming with agony.

 _Get up_ , a voice inside her said, _Get up!_ Awareness crept back into her mind. She was lying on the road, a light cycle on top of her. One of her legs still worked, the other ablaze with pain. She put a foot to the bike and pushed it off of her. She crawled over to the guard rail and propped her back against it, her vision still fuzzy. Two orange blurs appeared in front of her.

—

 _How_ _had she know to do that?_ Questions racked Koe as he and Wic approached the girl's crash. Up ahead, the remaining members of their team were coming to join them. _How had she known?_ Wic had expressed his confusion as well. The Box and Corner was old, very old. How had a young program learned something like that? Could _he_ have taught her? Koe pushed the thought away, but it refused to go, instead growing into a much more dangerous idea.

But he was pulled away as they came nearer the crash site. A long streak of broken code marked were she had skidded to a stop, and at the end there she sat looking horribly beat up. Koe couldn't help but feel a tremor of guilt at the sight. They'd had to break her to stop her. There had been a time where hadn't needed to do that, where less extreme means could have worked. What had happened? Neither of them had their disks out. She was exhausted, injured, in no condition to fight back. So when she struggled to her feet at seeing them, gripping the guard rail for support, and pulled out her disk with her one good arm, Wic and Koe stopped in surprise.

That didn't stop the other guards, however. The remaining nine black guards pulled up and formed a ring around her. She swung at a few of them, but in her condition she couldn't last long. Wic watched from a distance. _Is this what we have to do now?_ He paused at that, a shameful realization hitting him. That had always done this when they sent people to the Games. It's just the violence happened their beyond where they could see. The girl cried out as a guard kneed her in the stomach and she collapsed. A pair of guards dragged her to her feet while a third took out her disk. Another went off to go call a recognizer.

The two veterans looked at each other. "We got her," Koe said.

"That's no funny," Wic watched as a guard brought over her disk for inspection. Wic took it, "None of this is."

"Are you happy now?" the duo turned around. Mara struggled feebly against the guards holding her, "Because this," she lowered her helmet, scowling at them, "this is what you do! You don't protect anyone. You hunt them and you hurt them!"

A rumble in the distance, the recognizer was coming. The guards punched her in the gut again, her words cut short. Koe looked away. Wic gingerly took her disk from the guard and began looking through hers memories, not truly paying attention. Her words stung him. _Why should I care?_ He thought. But he knew why. He knew it hurt because it was true. They stood by and happily did Clu's dirty work, letting innocent programs go to their deaths.

"Wic…" Koe said softly.

Wic came out of his revere, "What?" Koe had a face of pure shock as he pointed at Mara's disk. Wic looked and he felt the wind go out of him. There in that memory was none of than the face of Tron.

"He's alive," Koe whispered.

Wic said nothing. He just stared at the image before him. _Tron_. His head suddenly snapped up, "You, guards, bring her over here." The two holding Mara dragged over her exhausted body and set her before the two captains. Wic dismissed them before bending down and showing the memory to Mara.

"Is this real?" Wic said in an undertone. Mara didn't answer, her head turned away. "Please," something in his tone caught her. She looked to meet his gaze. Gone was the vengeful face of a soldier, in its place was the look of many programs she had seen. A look of hope. "Tell me," Wic said, " _is this real?"_

Through the pain and the anguish and all the cuts and bruises she had, Mara managed a smile of triumph, "Tron Lives." There was a long pause, the only sound beng that of a recognizer in the distance.

"We've been living a lie," Koe clenched his fist. "All this time."

Wic stood up, his back straight, set determination on his face. "Then let's stop," he said as he drew his disk. He looked down at her, "We're getting you out of here."

"The recognizer is almost here," Koe said as he pulled out his own disk, "if it lands we'll be out matched."

"The tunnels," Mara croaked, "if we make it there we can get outside the city." The two veterans nodded.

"Where's the closest one?" Wic asked.

"Half a league from here."

"Sir," the three of them turned to see a black guard coming over, "we're almost ready to go."

"That won't be necessary," Koe replied.

"Sir?" the guard asked. In response, Koe and Wic's gridlines flickered. The orange melting away. Koe glowed with a bright sea green and Wic with a shining white. The guard realized what was going too late. He made to draw his disk but Koe was on top of him in a instant. The other eight moved to join, but Wic engaged them first, moving with passion and fury. One, two, four, five guards hit the ground hard. The remaining three backed off just as the recognizer came over the building behind them.

"We have to go!" Wic shouted.

"Here!" Mara pulled out a smoke bomb and tossed it into the fray. In moments their patch of ground was covered in thick smoke. Mara made to stand, but insead Koe scooped her up in his arms. She let him. Her leg wouldn't support her anyway. The two captains rezed their bikes, Koe being careful to strapped Mara in behind him.  
"You said half a league?" Wic asked and Mara nodded. He revved his engine, "I hope you people have a good hiding place." Mara laughed, but it hurt her stomach when she did. The trio shot out of the mist, racing down the highway to freedom.

—

"I'm telling you I've almost cracked it!" Zed walked beside Tron back at the Hideout.

"I'm not approving it, Zed," Tron replied as they entered the hanger.

"Think of the possibilities! Imagine if you had a baton that could turn into a light cycles _and_ a jet!"

"And probably explode in the process," Tron turned to say more, but just then the hanger doors opened.

"Is that Mara?" Zed asked.

Two light cycles came inside, "I don't know," Tron replied. They crossed over to the strangers. There were actually three programs, one was riding with one of the other two.

"Mara!" Zed raced over as fast as his crutch would allow. The two strangers parted for him as he came and knelt by her on the bike, "What the Flynn happened?"

"Yes," Tron walked over, "what happened? You were due back here almost three hours ago."

Mara gave a sheepish smile, "I found some new recruits."

Tron turned to face the strangers. Their vizors were still up and they stood at attention. He noticed the insignia on their helms, "The Tron City elite guard. Impressive."

"Thank you, sir," the two said at once.

"At ease programs," Tron waved them off and they relaxed, derezzing their helmets.

"Sir," the one with green eyes said, "it's...it's an honor."

"Truly," the white haired guard replied.

"Glad you could make it, we need all the help we can get. Zed?" Tron turned around, "Why don't you get our new recruits situated," he turned back to the two veterans, "We'll talk more later. There is a lot you need to know."

As Zed escorted Wic and Koe back to the hanger exit, Tron put an arm under Mara as she struggled to her feet, "I thought I put you on a simple recon mission?'

"Yeah about that…" Mara hobbled along as Tron helped her to the door, "I'm sorry. I knew I messed up. I was just trying to do something...something…"

"I understand," Tron said, "You brought two new recruits back with you. Two strong recruits. That's not easy and by the looks of things you had a hard time doing it." And in one of his rare moments, Tron gave her a faint smile, "Good work"

000

Greetings programs! Thank you for reading this far into my humbler version of Tron Uprising. This one took forever to write, but rest assured, I will be completing the second season of the show, it just might take a while. That said, I have big plans for Episodes 9 & 10\. No spoilers but we'll see _a lot_ of old faces and some big stuff is going to happen. I'll release them at the same time, but they will be a two-parter so get excited for a double portion of TRON for next time.  
END OF LINE.


End file.
